The Darkest Star
by MissSunMessage
Summary: He flushed, color flooding his gray face. "Whatever. I don't want to kill Dumbledore, but what alternative do I have?" Hermione hesitated, studying him. "You could try and run away." He stiffened. "Run away?" Semi-compliant with HBP. Alternate Universe.
1. Chapter 1

***Title from song by Depeche Mode* **  
**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, so unfortunately, I do not own the Harry Potter world!**

**Hi there! This is my first fanfiction ever, so I hope it's okay! Enjoy! **

**-MissSunMessage**

* * *

The sun was setting, and in a few hours the Equuleus Constellation would be visible from the grounds of Hogwarts Castle.

"Right, I'm going to go and see if I can make anything out of it and turn in a paper as extra credit," Hermione told Harry and Ron.  
"Extra credit," Ron repeated weakly.

"What do you need extra credit for?" Harry demanded incredulously. "Hermione, you won't get any sleep, and tomorrow's our Quidditch Match!"

"'Sides, your grades are perfect, and Astrology isn't even a main subject!" Ron added.

"Honestly, is Quidditch all you two think about?" Hermione asked loftily. "It's fascinating. You can only see it in mid-September. And extra credit never hurt anyone, did it?"

"No, but sleep-deprivation did!"

"Goodnight," Hermione said firmly.

* * *

Hermione walked languidly towards the designated spot she had prepared to set down her telescope. Once organized and with plenty of time to spare, she gazed up at the castle. She didn't think any of the students their age ever stopped to marvel at the stunning beauty and age of their school. Especially now, in the evening, the West Wing-  
Wait a minute. What was that-?

Was that a _student_ standing on the roof of the West Wing?

But that was so _dangerous_, what were they _thinking?!_

Hermione peered upwards, squinting.

That was definitely a person! And those looked like student robes!

Without a moment's hesitation, Hermione sped off towards Hogwarts.

* * *

Making her way quickly up the stairs, she burst through the door that led to the roof she suspected the person was on.

Hermione gasped as she realized the student was none other than Draco Malfoy, and he was standing very, very close to the edge.

"_Malfoy?_"

He spun around, hand flying to his wand.  
"Protego," she said impatiently. "What are you doing? You could fall off!" Hermione added concernedly.

"Granger," he spat, "Leave me alone."

"As a prefect, it's my duty to-" With shock, she realized he'd been crying. "What's the matter?"  
Registering the scene before her, she recalled Malfoy staring down with a calculating look in his eye. "Are you- you weren't about to jump, were you?" she asked sharply.  
"I said to go away!" he sneered.

"Draco Malfoy! I am not about to leave this roof when you were obviously about to jump off!" Hermione cried shrilly. "What kind of person would I be if I did that? If you want me to go away, tell me what's wrong with you!"  
He looked up, his face paling even further. "Fine," he said wildly. "I was about to jump off. I- I wanted to kill myself before- before he did. Before I could fail..."

Stricken, Hermione whispered, "Who? Fail at what?"

"The Dark Lord," he whispered. "If I don't do it, he'll kill me."

She froze. He was already a Death Eater? At fifteen? Harry had been right... Oh my God. Then at Borgin and Burkes, had he shown Borgin his Dark Mark? What had he been buying? Voldemort had let in a fifteen year old boy?

Somehow, despite all the years of mutual hatred, and her recent understanding, her heart went out to him. "Do what?" she asked urgently.

Malfoy just shook his head and turned away.

"Draco," she pleaded, "tell me what's going on. I can help you..."

"No, you can't. Why would you want to? I was horrible to you," he muttered.

"That doesn't matter at all. Just tell me what he's told you to do..."

"No!" he snapped.

Full of pity and sympathy, Hermione took a step back. "Please, Draco, come away from the edge," she pleaded. "You don't have to tell me anything at all, just please don't jump."

Pointing his wand at her suddenly, his eyes narrowed. He couldn't do anything through her shield, of course, but she felt a tinge of fear anyhow. "You can't tell anybody," he said fervently. "Not Potter. Not Weasley. Not-not Dumbledore, either."

"I promise," Hermione agreed quickly.

_Oh, God, just don't let him jump._

Reassured, Draco moved back. "Okay." He hesitated. "Thank you... Hermione."

She smiled at him in relief. "You can talk to me any time," she said resolutely.

He said nothing, just indicated for her to drop her shield and left the roof.

* * *

Hermione went to bed, thinking hard about what she'd just witnessed. Cold, cruel, arrogant Malfoy had acted lonely, desperate and remarkably frightened.

_What had happened to cause such a transformation? What accounted for the change of a person's personality and mindset? _Hermione wondered. She could barely look at it rationally, so great was her compassion for him.

_With an upbringing like his, it can't have been easy for him. His father a Death Eater, his mother related and married to a Death Eater, well, pretty much all the Malfoy's, the whole lot of them, were Death Eaters, or at least sided with Voldemort. Poor Draco!_

Hermione resolved to keep a close eye on him and watch to make sure he didn't do anything rash.

* * *

In Potions the next day, Hermione took her customary seat next to Harry and Ron.  
"So tell us, how did your little Astrology lesson go last night?" Harry asked her, raising his eyebrows. Hermione gazed at him blankly until she remembered why she'd gone out yesterday.

"Oh, fine," she murmured, turning her attention to Professor Slug-horn, who was explaining what a Mass Potion did.  
"Fine?" they repeated incredulously. "Where's the 'oh, it was so fascinating, you two really should read about it'?"

Hermione blinked at the two.

"Honestly, I don't always do that," she said indignantly. "Now pay attention!"

Slug-horn was explaining something about weight vs. length. "What was that?" she whispered frantically. "Did you hear what he said?"

Ron shook his head vaguely, staring at his blank parchment.

Coolly, a voice said from her left, "He said that for this potion, when we get our ingredients we'll have to weigh them rather than measure them, seeing as this is specific to the Mass Disguise Potion."

Startled, the three turned to stare at Malfoy, Hermione looking decidedly more pleased than Ron or Harry. For good measure, Draco added, "Pay attention, Mud-blood," and looked back up at Professor Slug-horn. Ron relaxed a bit, assuming everything was normal, but Harry was unsettled.

_What was that look they'd exchanged? It'd looked almost like... Warmth. And understanding._ "Thanks," Hermione murmured, and added it to her notes.

"Now, I'll split you up into pairs, and we'll try it out, have a little competition," the professor said enthusiastically. Hermione sat up a little straighter.

Mentally, she begged him to place her with Harry, recalling how he'd won the Felix Felicis, Lucky Potion, just last week. He had the graffitied Potions book, and while she wasn't the best Potions student, merely second-best, now pushed to third-best, she'd surely do well partnered with him.

"Let's see..." He rattled off names, coming to an end with, "Zabini, Parkinson. Patil, Brown. Goyle, Crabbe. Weasley, Potter. Longbottom, Thomas."

All these students were staring at their remaining classmates, who had reddened significantly, each for their own private reasons.  
"And Granger, Malfoy," Slug-horn finished neatly. "Get into your pairs, find a desk, and begin making your potions, please."

Resigned, Hermione and Draco gestured mutually at each other and made their way over to a table in the back.

"Do you have your book?" Hermione asked briskly.

Draco nodded, and began weighing the crow's feathers they were to include.

Quickly, Hermione realized what an exemplary Potions student Malfoy really was. Yes, she'd always acknowledged him as the best in class, but there was simply a wayward, natural _grace_ to his movements as he prepared their potion.

Somewhere in between mixing in snake-skin and waving away smoke from their cauldron, Hermione muttered, "Are you okay today?" and Draco glanced at her sideways.

"Yes," he replied curtly, clearly opposed to discussing it, and began to swat at the thick, blue smoke heading towards them from Neville's cauldron. As he flapped his arms irritably, the sleeves of his robes fell down, exposing half of a black tattoo on his wrist.

Hermione froze for a moment -_Oh My God, she had never really seen a Dark Mark up close before, and had never heard of a fifteen year old boy receiving one, how horrible, she recalled how fiercely Harry had argued with them that he had one, that he was a death Eater, and they had disagreed_- then coughed quietly and, as Malfoy turned to stare at her, tapped her wrist.

He instantly knew what she meant and quickly pulled his sleeve back up, turning crimson.

They spent the rest of the class in silence, each remembering what the other had said last night. At the end of class, he had worked so efficiently, and Hermione had worked so quietly, that when Professor Slug-horn came to their desk, collected a vial, and dropped it on a cube, it weighed virtually nothing at all. "Well done, Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger! Fifteen points to Gryffindor and Slytherin," he said brightly.

Malfoy eyed Hermione, and she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face.

Why did Malfoy, the boy who'd she'd called her enemy until last night, who accused her of having dirtier blood than himself, who she'd hit in third year because he'd caused her just that much aggravation, who was vain, filthy rich, at times downright heartless, and prone to causing many people grief, possess the ability to make her feel so light-headed?


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! Hope you like it!**

**-MissSunMessage**

* * *

_Malfoy eyed Hermione, and she couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face._

_Why did Malfoy, the boy who'd she'd called her enemy until last night, who accused her of having dirtier blood than himself, who she'd hit in third year because he'd caused her just that much aggravation, who was vain, filthy rich, at times downright heartless, and prone to causing many people grief, possess the ability to make her feel so light-headed?_

* * *

Stumbling down to the Quidditch Field, Hermione breathed in frosty wind. It was getting colder now, October weather always turned icy. She was going down to see Ron try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

The try outs had been long awaited and sweated over by her two best friends. For goodness' sake- why did the two obsess over a sport so much? Especially with the Bludgers- it was dangerous as well as well as being a sport. She'd never understand why so many of her classmates took such a liking to it.

Walking and mumbling to herself, she bumped into someone. Groaning and picking up her wand, she looked up at her assailant to see Draco Malfoy frowning at her.

"Watch where you're going," he said absent-mindedly, and helped her up and fell into step with her. "So, what are you looking so pensive about? Not sure about that essay Slug-horn assigned us?" Surprised that he was speaking to her in actual full sentences, she chose to ignore the suggestive malice in his voice and replied, "Just thinking about how I rather don't like Quidditch, so I just... Oh, you play Quidditch, don't you?" she remembered suddenly. "Sorry."

He snorted, and the word that came to mind was _charming_.

_Charming_, and _very attractive_.

She froze.

_Slow down there, Hermione_, her mind screamed in panic. M_alfoy is not attractive, or charming. He's a Death Eater. You've seen the proof. You should be telling Harry and Ron about that proof._  
_But they're preparing for the game. And Draco's right here. Besides, I promised I wouldn't say anything._  
_Hermione, think. You're drawn to things that need help. House elves. SPEW. Think SPEW._  
_Yes, and Draco needs help! I have to help him! He was about to commit suicide! That doesn't sound like a proper Death Eater._  
_Fine, so he's a screwed-up Death Eater? That's even worse._  
_That's better- he's not a proper Death Eater, he's an unwilling one, one that's depressed and frightened. And really attrac-_  
_NOT attractive, Hermione. Death Eater! Enemy! Bullying, infuriating, peacock of a boy!_  
_He's not being a bully right now, is he? He's walking with me, talking... _Oh! He's talking!_  
_  
"... You know, I dabble. For about _four years_."

She giggled. _Oh my goodness, I just giggled. I don't giggle! What's wrong with me? I sound like Lavender..._  
"Sorry," she repeated, not sounding very sorry at all.

"So you dislike Quidditch," he mused, not asking for confirmation, but saying it.

She repeated, "I _hate_ it. Oh goodness, that's so good to say. I'm never able to tell anyone how _stupid_ and _unnecessary_ and _tiresome_ and _uneducational_ it is! This is a _school_, not a _sports field!_ I'm surrounded by _Quidditch_ players -Harry and Ron and Ginny and Dean and Seamus- so I'm never able to _say_ anything, but I wish I_ would_ be!"

"And what am I? A soccer player?" he asked, bewildered.

"No, you play Quidditch, but you don't particularly enjoy it," Hermione pointed out exasperatedly. "You only play it because your father expects it of you, and I think partly to irritate Harry," she added.

He blinked at her, all the spite disappearing from his face. "Actually, a big part of it is to irritate Potter," he smirked.

She scrutinized the tall, pale Slytherin before her.

"So you can rant away to me," he agreed.

"You're much more cheerful today," she declared. "You're still scared, but you've done your best to hide it and you're glad I stopped you yesterday. This means that you've figured out what to do?"

He glanced at her briefly, then looked away. "Sort of."

"Meaning-?" she prompted.

"Meaning mind your own business and leave it to me," he sneered.

There was the old Malfoy she knew and disliked!

She reached out and grabbed his arm.

Draco tensed.

"And will this plan of yours hurt anybody?" she demanded, watching him as he glared at her. "Just leave me alone."

"You're the one that banged into me," she pointed out.

He sighed and shook his arm away.

"I said you could talk to me about it," she reminded him, even thought she knew perfectly well it was useless.

"And _I_ said you could talk to me about _Quidditch_, not about what I plan or don'tplan."

She gave him a long, sad, caring look. "This isn't you, Draco," she whispered. "You're not one of them. You're better, you are, I know you are."

That did it.

He threw her one last glare, but Hermione saw his eyes soften for a second under his glower, and she sensed the fear and confusion that lay beneath his contemptful demeanor.

"Have fun watching Weasel block goals," he muttered, and stalked off.

"Wait! Where're you going?" she cried after him.

He didn't even glance back.

* * *

Biting her lip, Hermione stumbled down the stone road to go and cheer on Ron, who'd be properly trying out for the first time. Her annoyance at both of them resurfaced, and for a blissful minute she forgot all about Malfoy's dreadful situation.

Ron was about to miss the Quaffle from passing him. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she watched everything unfold with a painful slowness.

McLaggen was a great Quidditch player, better than Ron would be- she knew that. She also knew that Ron deserved the spot on the team a hundred times more than Connor.

In a sudden spurt of madness, she jerked her wand up and murmured, "_Confundus_". She saw Connor shake his head in aching dizziness, and she winced, but not long enough not to catch the look of wild happiness on Ron's face when he realized he'd made the team.

That expression made up for any sort of guilt she'd have been burdened with.

* * *

Walking with Harry and Ron in Hogsmeade, nodding along to Ron's chatter, she listened vaguely to Katie and Leanne argue over Katie's necklace.

She wondered where Katie had bought it, and why she was keeping it all covered up like that- and then Katie wasn't, then Katie was up in the air screaming, and Hermione was filled with terror. Transfixed, they all stared up at her until she dropped back down.

Horrified, Hermione struggled to think while Harry ran off to get help. What could have done that to Katie? A curse, obviously, but that was some really Dark magic right there!

As Hagrid ran back and stared at poor Katie, Hermione realized coldly that it was not a matter of what -or even of who, she knew who- but why.

Why would he do that to Katie? Obviously, his task had not been easy to fulfill indirectly. Or successful. Hermione seriously doubted he'd meant to hurt one of his classmates.

Hermione hurried forward and wrapped an arm around Leanne, who was shaking.

* * *

They were in front of Professor McGonagoll, explaining what they had seen, when Harry stepped forward and declared his Malfoy's-the-first-sixteen-year-old-Death-Eater theory, explaining Malfoy's experience at Borgin and Burke's.

Ice-cold guilt flooding her, Hermione was sure to defend Draco, somehow dreading the idea of anyone blaming Draco in all of this - "But Harry, Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said no..."- as Ron egged her on and McGonagall disagreed with Harry in the politest, most strictly professional way.

"Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely because..." Poor Harry, who was entirely correct, of course, was furious with all of them.

But, Hermione thought ashamedly, he had no cause to be angrier at one of them than at Hermione, who should be telling him he was indeed very right, that she'd seen the proof and heard the confession, that Draco had a terrifying, mysterious mission laid out for him, that he was the world's youngest Death Eater, that Harry was brilliant for figuring it out before anyone else could, including the "_best witch of her age_"...

As they left politely, Harry contemplated who it could have been meant for- a question Hermione wanted answered as well.

She suddenly had a troublesome thought, and didn't shut her mouth fast enough not to say, "Or you, Harry!"

Malfoy wouldn't really...

Would he?

* * *

Back at the Common Room, Hermione excused herself and, the Marauders' Map hidden in her robes, slipped outside and hurried down a few corridors before taking the map out and locating Draco on the third floor. Taking a familiar shortcut through the stairs, she found him in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, leaning against a wall and talking to Myrtle in a low voice.  
"No, he'd never do that. I don't know what to do. It didn't work..." Hermione cleared her throat. "What didn't work? Katie's necklace?"  
He spun around-  
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione snapped.  
"Ooh, hello! How nice to see you again!" Myrtle squealed.  
"What are you doing here?" Malfoy demanded, his embarrassment and fear clear.  
"This is a girls bathroom, Draco."

"An abandoned girls bathroom," he shot back.  
"Who was Katie supposed to give that necklace to?" she demanded, catching him off-guard.  
He sneered at her. "What makes you think I would know?"  
"Well, I thought you might, seeing as you're the one who gave it to her," she said coolly.  
"For your information, Granger, I wasn't in-"  
"So you got someone to do it for you," she said sensibly. "Imperiused some girl, or used polyjuice potion..." Instantly, she knew the answer- it was written all over his face. "Impressive- you're able to complete the Imperius curse? An Unforgivable?" Her words would indicate contempt and disgust, except that she said them with a deep sadness. "Who?"  
Before he could stop himself, Malfoy blurted, "Madame Rosmerta."  
"You know Katie is in the hospital wing right now, because of you? She touched the necklace, and now they don't know what's going to happen to her. And she only touched it through the _hole_ in her _glove_. Tell me, what would happen to a person who touched it with their hand?" she asked the boy in front of her, who was making an effort not to look at her.  
His head jerked up. "That Bell girl's hurt? I didn't mean for that to happen..."  
"Draco, who was Katie going to bring that thing to?"  
He scowled at her, not admitting to anything. "Not a- a student, right?" His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, then darted back down to the ground.  
They both suddenly became uncomfortably aware of Moaning Myrtle hanging on to their every word.  
Hermione opened her mouth hesitantly, then looked back to Malfoy for reassurance.  
"Oh, no, do continue!" Myrtle protested eagerly. "I haven't heard such drama since, well, my death! Have I told you how I died, by the way? It was awful," she relished.

Slightly mollified, Hermione turned to Myrtle. "Myrtle, why don't you go and tell Percy Weasley that? He's patrolling the corridor just outside."

Rather huffily, Myrtle stormed out. "I can see when I'm not wanted. I suppose now that pale boy'll cry to you, instead of me?!"  
Skeptical, Hermione eyed Draco. "Cry?"  
Malfoy stared at the water dripping from Myrtle's sink.  
Myrtle was too caught up in her rant to notice. "I was here first, you know. I suppose it's because you're l-living!" She dissolved in tears.  
"Oh, goodness," Hermione said exasperatedly.  
Myrtle flew away, gasping, and Hermione sank down to the floor. "You were crying?"  
All Malfoy said was, "You've been here before?"  
"I- what? It's a bathroom, Draco. Of course I've been here."  
"Myrtle knew you."  
"Oh. Well, I, um, in second year me and Harry and Ron used the bathroom to make an, um... potion." She recalled what that potion had been used for, and cringed.

"Potion?"  
Hermione nodded in acknowledgement.  
"I don't expect that was used for much good, either, was it?" he asked, with a trace of his old smirk.  
"Why wouldn't it?" she asked indignantly.  
"Because Potter's always in trouble, he can't help it. It's a _prophecy_ that he always has to do something wrong and get maimed-"  
"Prophecy?" Hermione asked sharply. She hadn't missed his little joke. "How do you-?"  
He gave her a scathing look. "My father was there, wasn't he? Now, as I said, Scarhead always will do something wrong, it's his fate, and Weasel, well, I think he enjoys the excitement of it all. Plus, him being a blood traitor and all..."  
"_What?_ Surely you can't still believe... I mean, you don't want to-"

"What I want or don't want doesn't change my beliefs about the Weasleys," he sneered. "The Dark Lord believes in pure blood supremacy as well as I- however, I, unlike him, do not believe in killing or torturing people because of their blood or associations. Let the Weasleys do what they want. If they want to disgrace pure-bloods, let them. The more people who do what they want with their lives the better," he finished icily. "Now, you... Well, you're their moral compass, as well as their brain. They need you. So with two out of three drawn to rule-breaking, yes, I expect that potion broke about fifty school rules and probably would hurt some people if they found out. Am I wrong?"

Assuming she'd argue with him or try more about the necklace from him, he was surprised to see her say abruptly, "We used the potion to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room and try and find out if you knew anything about the Heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets."  
His grey eyes remained impassive for a very long time.  
"Say something," Hermione urged, growing uneasy.  
"I remember that," he said slowly. "Crabbe and Goyle were acting stupider than usual, and swinging their arms all weird. Then Crabbe's hair started turning red..."  
Hermione considered this. She'd always wondered if the effects of the potion had worn off at the right time.  
"Wait, where were you? The room was empty," Malfoy said curiously.

Hermione's face was very pink as she asked, "Do you remember when I was in the hospital wing with a cat's features?"  
He didn't fight the smile that sprang onto his face.  
She flared up. "It's not funny! I was really embarassed!" But she couldn't help but smile, either.  
"I told you it was probably a bad potion," he snorted.  
Using _bad_ to describe it told her he wasn't angry at her, but her defense was fueled by his mocking gaze and her shame at being seen as a person that sneaked around making rule-breaking potions.  
"Well, it's not like _you've_ never said or done anything bad to _us_," she countered.  
He stared at her in distinct disagreement, but she ignored him and continued insensitively. "Let's see... Calling me Mudblood, calling Harry and Ron Scarhead and Weasel, making fun of my blood, Ron's family and economic situation-"  
She pretended not to notice him as Malfoy mouthed "_Economic situation?!_"  
"... Harry's being an orphan, insulting his parents, ramming into him during Quidditch games, hexing us in the halls..."  
Malfoy offered her his worst sneer. "Oh, scream it, why don't you? I don't think Percy Weasley out in the hall has heard about what an _asshole_ Draco Malfoy is," he said sarcastically.  
Hermione gave him a long, lingering look, instantly regretting her harsh words. "You're not an asshole. You're just... Misinterpreted."  
He laughed. "What a nice aperçu."

Hermione bit her lip. "Tell me," she murmured.  
"You'll hate me."  
"I already hate you."  
"No, you'll _hate_ me."  
"Tell me anyway."  
He stared at the water running along between the tiles and thought about forgiveness.  
"I'm supposed to murder Professor Dumbledore by the end of term."

Hermione went perfectly still.  
"If I don't, you can guarantee that I'll be killed, and probably my entire family will be wiped out as well. My father thinks its an honor, but my mother's scared to death of me failing. Katie was supposed to bring the necklace straight to Professor Dumbledore without touching it. I'm not the best at the Imperious Curse, though, so that part didn't go so well. I'm not that great at any Unforgivable, so I expect the task I've been assigned wont work out, either. I expect I'll be dead by the end of the year."  
There was a pregnant pause, and then: "There's my task for you. She was bringing the necklace to Dumbledore."  
Another pause, and then, tearfully, "Oh, Draco!"

Hermione rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck.  
Malfoy froze.  
"I don't hate you," she said into his hair.  
"I know," he said cockily. Hermione laughed through her tears.  
He was silent as she stepped back and looked at him imploringly. "Isn't there anything you could do?"  
"Can you think of anything?" he asked indifferently, but there was a trace of urgency beneath his lazy words.  
She hesitated. "No. Well, are you going to do it? Kill him?"  
Malfoy glanced up at her. His eyes were indistinguishable beneath the blonde hair hanging in his face. "I don't know."  
"Oh, you can't! I mean, even if you try, like you said," she stammered, "like you said, you can't perform the Unforgivable Curses. So it's all for nothing."  
"But what if I can? It might be the only way," he said, looking sick.

"No, Draco. It's not a question of magical power, but your soul... You need the nerve and the personality and the reasoning and motive, and even more things. You don't have those, do you?"  
He glared at her. "Are you saying the threat of my family's death isn't enough reason and motive? I'm brave enough."  
"Like I said, bravery won't get you the ability to kill someone and become a murderer. And I think you aren't as close to your family as you'd like to pretend, are you?"  
He flushed, color flooding his gray face. "Whatever. I don't want to kill Dumbledore, but what alternative do I have?"  
Hermione hesitated, studying him. "You could try and run away."  
He stiffened. "Run away?"  
She began to speak very quickly. "Yes, you could try and hide in the Forbidden Forest, and take food and things with you, and then get a plane ticket to somewhere, and-"  
He sighed. "That would never work. Hogwarts's protected with magical enchantments, remember?"  
"With practice and research, I think I could get past those," she said confidently. "I've been reading about protective guarding spells, and they're fascinating, really. It turns out there's always one simple spell to break through them. You just need to try out a bunch and in the right order, fourth-year spells can get past the average guarding enchantment. Hogwarts will have harder ones, of course... But it shouldn't be too much of a challenge."  
Her dark chocolate eyes narrowed dangerously as they met his silver ones. "What?"  
"That's brilliant," Malfoy said softly, and then, again, "That's _brilliant_. Thank you. You're brilliant. We'll have to plan it, and I'll leave before April. It's _brilliant_."  
And, before either of them registered what was happening, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. "When can we meet to talk?"

* * *

Hermione returned to the common room, hands shaking.  
"Hermione?" came a sleepy voice from her right.  
She ducked around an armchair and discovered Ron lying on a couch, homework forgotten on the floor. "Where were you?" he asked, and yawned.  
"Well, I-"  
Harry walked in and said, "Oh, good, you're back. Where'd you go?"

Hermione pretended to yawn. "Oh, you know. Library and such."  
"Ah. Don't work yourself too hard, okay?"  
Guilt stabbed Hermione in the heart. _Oh, Harry_, she thought. _It's not me you should be worrying about, but the fifteen year old boy who's got a death sentence on his head._ Again, she desperately wished she could tell him where her mind was these days.

She smiled painfully.

"Right," and made as if to leave-  
"Hermione, you haven't seen Harry's map, have you?" Ron asked suddenly, and Harry said, "Oh yeah. Did you?"  
Innocently, Hermione repeated, "map", and pretended not to understand, all the while silently thinking, _Wingardium Leviosa!_ and concentrating on hovering it past their heads.  
"You know, the Marauder's Map..."

_Come on, just a bit further- over to the desk-_  
"Oh. Isn't that it over there?" she asked puzzledly.  
"Hermione, you're a saint," Harry sighed, and snatched it off the table.

"Hardly," she replied. "Good night."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! Hope you enjoy!**

**-MissSunMessage**

* * *

_Guilt stabbed Hermione in the heart. Oh, Harry, she thought. It's not me you should be worrying about, but the fifteen year old boy who's got a death sentence on his head. Again, she desperately wished she could tell him where her mind was these days._

_She smiled painfully._

_"Right," and made as if to leave-_  
_"Hermione, you haven't seen Harry's map, have you?" Ron asked suddenly, and Harry said, "Oh yeah. Did you?"_  
_Innocently, Hermione repeated, "map", and pretended not to understand, all the while silently thinking, Wingardium Leviosa! and concentrating on hovering it past their heads._  
_"You know, the Marauder's Map..."_

_Come on, just a bit further- over to the desk-_  
_"Oh. Isn't that it over there?" she asked puzzledly._  
_"Hermione, you're a saint," Harry sighed, and snatched it off the table._

_"Hardly," she replied. "Good night."_

* * *

That night, Hermione barely slept at all, so heavy was the conversation she'd had with Draco on her mind. What was she doing? Conspiring against Dumbledore, the entire school staff, Draco's family, and Voldemort himself? Something must have triggered this rebellious, fearless streak in her. Not to mention the fact that she was _helping a Death Eater drop out of school._

* * *

Walking after class, she thought about how she'd caught Harry staring at Ginny, practically drooling, the other-

Hermione spotted Draco walking a few feet away, hunched over against the cold, hands shoved in his pockets. Quietly, she wove her way through students dressed in red, silver, brown, blue, gold, green, yellow, and bronze.  
"Hey."  
Startled, he stumbled and fell into her cloak. Reaching out, Hermione's fingers grasped Malfoy's gloved hand, and she steadied him.  
Realizing what they were doing- holding hands- they both stepped apart quickly and looked around in panic, trying to detect if anyone had been watching.  
"Sorry!" Hermione whispered fearfully. She thought she saw Luna glance over at them, but then her dizzy blue eyes lingered on a tree nearby.  
"Can we talk somewhere? Somewhere quiet?" he muttered.

"Yes, I think-"  
Suddenly Hermione became aware of the crowd that now surrounded them, eager to watch what they were sure was a fight. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy inches apart, talking? Clearly, someone or something was about to explode.  
Hermione winced.  
_Sorry, Draco!_ and yelled, "Barst Blada!" Blood spurted from Malfoy's nose, and he gasped, hand over his face. He looked up, furious and confused, to find eyes all around him focused, waiting to see how he'd retaliate.  
"Filthy Mudblood!" he yelled, and sent a white-hot lash of magic towards her.  
She came up, face burning, and flicked her wand smartly.  
He doubled over, gasping, feeling a fist in his stomach.  
Quickly, before he could respond in kind, Hermione ran off.  
Draco looked up to see everyone watching him apprehensively. Sneering at them, he kicked a first-year's bag away and walked on.

* * *

No sooner had he entered a hallway than a sixteen year old girl flung herself onto him and started examining every inch of his face. "Oh, oh, your nose!" she squealed. "I'm so sorry, Draco! I didn't know what else to-"  
He jerked back, and she flinched, looking at him anxiously.  
"It's fine," he answered, taking the tissue from her and pressing it to his nose, which was still bloody from her hex. She certainly paid attention during Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, didn't she? "What else could you do, everyone watching like that?"  
Relieved, she backed away and watched him.  
"We should get back to the game."  
"But then when will we-?" It seemed Malfoy was afraid to even speak of their plans. Hermione understood all too well.  
Briskly, she said, "Right. Well, during the game, meet me under the stands, okay?"

* * *

Teeth chattering, Hermione huddled against the wind, listening to the enthusiastic cheers of her fellow Gryffindors. She glanced at Neville.

"Hello, Hermione. Good game, eh?"

"Mm-hmm," she said with a private sigh. "How much longer till it ends, do you think, Neville?" she asked vaguely.  
He glanced at her with a toothy grin. "Go, Hermione."  
She sat up, surprised. "What-?"  
"The game'll last long enough for you to go see whoever it is you want to see so badly," he assured her. "I'll cover for you."  
She beamed at him.  
"Thanks, Neville!"

* * *

"What do you know, it's warm under here," she muttered as she squinted into the dark underside of the stands. "Draco?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he whispered back.  
She smiled at him. "Your nose looks better."  
"Yes, yes, let's skip to the plans," he answered, bending over the detailed blueprint of the castle she'd drawn with painstaking attention to detail. "This is amazing. How did you do it?"

"I walk around the castle sometimes," she replied, looking it over approvingly. "Now, you see this entrance? It goes into the Great Hall, so it'd be a bit dangerous to go through there. What most people forget about is the entrance at the bottom end of the West Wing. There isn't much patrol there, so no one'll notice our leaving through there. I was thinking you could go during a free period, when everyone's sitting outside. That way, it won't look odd when you're leaving the castle during all hours. Is that okay?"  
"Yeah, of course," he agreed, still absorbed in her sketch.  
"We can go out sometime during lunch to try out some of the enchantments, okay?"  
"What excuse do we use for leaving?"  
"Leaving?"  
"You know, the people we're always with. Potter, Weasley, Zabini, Parkinson. What excuse do we give them?"  
She frowned at him. She hadn't thought to concern herself with such tiny, unexciting details. "Well," she said honestly, "I just usually say I'm going to the library."  
He stared at her for a second, then began to laugh very hard. "Merlin, Hermione, you're really something, aren't you?"  
She glanced at him, then smiled.  
"Yes, well. Back to the map. You see that door? Meet me there at lunch on Thursday," she ordered. "Then we'll try out some of the enchantments."

* * *

Hermione climbed over to her chair, smiling at Neville. "You're a lifesaver."  
He blushed fiercely. "Not at all."

"What's going on with the game?"

"Harry's going for the snitch. Again."

She cringed. "Tough break for him?"

"Not his best."

* * *

At breakfast, Harry spoke up. "What's with Malfoy? He looks all pleased with himself, the prat."

"Harry!" Hermione admonished. "Let him be!"  
"But Hermione, he's a-"  
She glowered at him. "Well, if he is, then that's even more reason to leave him alone!"  
Ron, mouth full, grumbled, "What're you talking about?"  
Harry looked at her skeptically.

Nervously, she said, "Well, if he really is a Death Eater, then shouldn't we feel sorry for him? It can't be easy, being fifteen and having to serve Voldemort!"  
Ron snorted and pointed his fork at her. "Trust me, Hermione, if he is one, he chose it."  
"What if he didn't?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. She knew she was speaking above a regular volume, and people were beginning to stare, but she didn't care. "What if he was forced? Don't you two have any empathy at all?"  
Harry stared at her.  
"Hermione, calm down. What are you talking about?"  
But Hermione was feeling short of breath, and pushed her chair away and left the Great Hall without another word.

* * *

During lunch, Hermione sat down with Harry and Ron in the courtyard, still feeling uneasy about her outburst at breakfast earlier, but thankfully the two didn't say anything about it.  
"How was Burbage?" Ron inquired, referring to Hermione's Muggle Studies teacher.  
"Oh, the class was good. She talked about Muggle wars," Hermione explained. "She described guns as noisy, metal tubes that shot out hard projectiles very quickly. Oh, and Blaise Zabini asked if swords were ever used for picking your teeth. I don't think he quite understood the concept, although I give him credit for even taking the class at all."  
Harry chuckled. "Remind me why you take that class."  
Hermione smiled.  
"Because he described them as fast metal tubes," Ron explained condescendingly.  
Harry joined in, smiling widely. "Because it's simply fascinating."

"Because you need to understand the Muggle world through the eyes of a wizard," Ron offered.  
"Because you need a free period to sleep."  
"Because you sit next to Cormac McLaggen."  
"Because you need to take an even number of classes."  
"Because there's a nice view from the classroom window."  
"Because it's right next to the library."  
Hermione stopped laughing and stiffened. "Oh, Merlin, I forgot! I need to go to the library! Quick, what time is it?"  
They frowned at her.  
"Twelve fifteen. What do you need to go there for?" Harry demanded with an injured look.  
"To study!" she explained, standing up.  
"Hermione, you spend way too much time in there," Ron told her sagely.

"I'm sorry! I'll see you in Defense Against the Dark Arts, all right?" she called over her shoulder, bumping into several third-years in her haste to get away.

* * *

"Sorry, sorry!" she cried as soon as she entered the West Wing's entrance. "I forgot!"  
Malfoy stepped out of the shadows, saying, "Don't be sorry. It's fine."  
She glared at him. "Don't say that! This is your life we're talking about!"

"You were only late a few minutes..." he pointed out.  
"What excuse did you give Pansy and Blaise?" she inquired.  
He smirked. "I didn't."  
"What do you mean? What did you say when you got up and left?"

Again, Malfoy gave her a little knowing smile. "I didn't say anything."

She gaped at him. "You mean you _just walked away_ during a conversation?"  
He nodded casually, examining his wand. "Do it all the time," he told her.  
"What, and they still _talk_ to you?"  
He shrugged. "Apparently."  
Shaking her head, Hermione declared, "Whatever. Let's get started."  
"What do I do?"  
"Nothing. You stand over there and keep quiet."

And, moving towards the doorway, she began muttering strings of words that he either didn't know or just couldn't understand, faster and faster, until it became a steady stream of incantations. Occasionally, she jerked her wand up or flicked it, but for the most part it remained stiffly directed at the door.

Finally, Malfoy just sat down on the floor and watched her in wonder.  
She seemed so familiarized, so at peace, like doing this magic gave her inner happiness. Thinking to himself, Malfoy admitted that he couldn't think of anyone that was better suited to be a witch or a wizard than Hermione Granger. He wanted to ask how she knew all of this, but he strongly suspected her answer would be "the library", and he didn't want to distract her and have something go wrong. Something gave him the feeling that this was a highly dangerous thing to be doing.  
After what seemed to him like an hour, Hermione's hand began to shake, and with it, the door. Malfoy could actually see the wood splintering along the edges, and the hinges quivering.  
He jumped up, swearing. Was this what was supposed to happen? "Hermione!" he shouted.  
She stepped back, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.  
"It worked," she murmured. Then: "Draco, it worked!" she cried ecstatically.  
Looking at her so proud of herself, he couldn't help but be proud of her too. Why hadn't he ever seen how beautiful she was? But...  
"Hermione, shouldn't we run now?" he asked nervously.  
Dazed, she answered, "Oh... Yes, we should," and made no particular effort to tear her eyes away from the slowly exploding door.  
Alarmed, he gripped her wrist. "Hermione, come on!"  
Blinking, she seemed to understand at last that they were both in danger of being crushed by her spell.  
Holding his hand, they ran like thieves through the castle.

* * *

Bursting into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, laughing, they collapsed onto the soaked tiles.  
Myrtle floated out of a stall, eying them suspiciously. "You aren't laughing at me, are you?" she demanded.

"No," Hermione gasped, "We aren't. Promise."

Malfoy grinned at her. "You did it. You actually did it."

"Well," she said breathlessly, "That's just the initial step. There's still more guarding enchantments to break. But yes, I got through it."

Abruptly, Malfoy's smile faded. "Can they trace you to it?"

Hermione shook her head. "Well, they could, but I think only if they check wands... They shouldnt, though, because then they'd have to check the whole schools'... There's Veritaserum and truth spells, but they're not supposed to use those on students. Remember when Umbridge did, last year?" But she was really only talking to herself at that point, so Malfoy kept quiet and listened to her think aloud.

"Most likely they'll just ask if anyone knows anything, and assume the worst... That there's an intruder... Maybe search the school? I don't think that breaching boundaries can be traced without checking wands for their spell histories or without confessions... I don't think they'll trace me to it," she concluded, looking up at him. "They could, but not without difficulty, so they won't."

"Will students hear about it?" he asked curiously.

"Listen for an announcement at dinner," she shrugged.

Sighing, Malfoy leaned against the wall and smirked at her. "That was quite something to watch."

She blushed. "It wasn't that hard."

"Oh, don't be modest. That was amazing," he said quietly. "I didn't even know what you were saying."

Hermione giggled. "Well, some of it was in Bulgarian."

"What, where that Krum was from?"

"Yes, he taught me some very tricky spells they learn over there."

"Didn't you go out with him in fourth year?"

She gave him an strange look. "Yeah, so?"

"Nothing." He paused. "Do you still talk?"

The next look she gave him was curious and amused. "Sometimes. Why?"

"Just wondering," he muttered. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of what was not quite jealousy, but something very close to it.

She smiled oddly. "Draco..."

She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Don't overanalyse everything."

He stiffened, and she lifted her head up. "Do me a favor?" she asked hesitantly.

He tilted his head irritably.

"….. Tell me about yourself."

He snickered. "Me? Why?"

She glared at him. "Well, if you're going to run away soon and go into hiding and I'll never see you again, then I want to get to know you. I mean, I hated you all these years until I realized what you're really like, and now I want to know what you're really like."

"Fine. You start."

Taken aback, Hermione stared at him. "_Me?_ Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Because I hated you all these years until I realized what you're really like, and now I want to know what you're really like," he said unblushingly.

Hermione laughed. "Okay. Like what?"

"Like your favorite color."

"Blue." She glanced at him expectantly.

"Yes, _more_."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "My name is Hermione Granger. I'm a Muggle-born witch. On holiday, I live with my parents, who are dentists. My favorite color is blue. I hate Divination class. I love to read. My favorite season is fall. I created an organization called the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare. I don't listen to music much, but I used to play the violin before I came to Hogwarts. But losing the ability to play the violin was a small price to pay in exchange for becoming a witch and learning all these new, amazing, world-defying concepts. I can't imagine growing up with magic, so I envy you for that. I always sleep on my right side. My favorite flowers are carnations. I think I've changed since I saw you on the roof that night."

Malfoy leaned forward to hear what she'd say next, but she raised her eyebrows. "Your turn." He sighed heavily, and she smiled.

"My name is Draco Malfoy. I'm a pure-blood wizard. On holiday, I live with my parents, who are wizards. My favorite color is green. I hate Divination class, too, but it's a fairly good class to sleep in. I don't really read. My favorite season is winter. I've heard of your organization, but its spoken of as SPEW, not the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare. I played the piano before I came to Hogwarts, and I haven't forgotten how, but I haven't exactly practiced, either. I never learned all these new, amazing, world-defying concepts, since I'd been hearing about them ever since I was born. I can't imagine growing up without magic, so I envy you for that. I always sleep on my back. I think I've changed since I saw you on the roof that night, too."

Hermione gazed at him. "You forgot something," she said disappointedly.

"Oh, yeah? And what would that be?"

"You didn't say what your favorite flowers were," she accused.

He snorted.

"Tiger lilies," and she couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"Liar," she said anyway.

He sighed, smiling down at his feet. "Roses," he announced.

"Seriously."

"Dandelions. Daisies. Foxglove. Orchid."

"Draco!" she said indignantly, "I mean what's your _actual favorite flower?_ Not kidding?"

He laughed. "You'll have to find that out in time."

She sighed and shook her head exasperatedly.

There was a long silence, and then Malfoy took her hand gently.

Hermione was too shocked to pull away or say anything. "Come with me."

Relaxing, she glanced at him sideways. "Where?"

"I mean run away with me."

And all her shock flooded back, violently.

"Run away with you," she repeated dizzily.

"In April," he clarified.

"But... But... Why?" she finally asked.

Bracing himself, Draco closed his eyes and spoke. "Because you're amazing and brilliant and you're helping me so much and I'm afraid to go alone and because..." He took a shallow breath. "I think I love you."

Hermione lost the ability to speak. She closed her eyes and tried to think of what she felt when she thought of him. Draco watched as her eyes darted back and forth beneath her dark eyelashes.

A desire to help him, yes, attraction, that swooping sensation she got when she saw his face, affection, recognition, and- She couldn't quite identify that last feeling, and that scared her.

Her voice cracking, Hermione choked out, "I think I love you too."

Confidence boosted by a mile, he began to talk faster and faster. "You could finish your classes by then, I know you could, and have taken all your final exams, and you know more about what to do than I ever could, and then it wouldn't be half as terrifying for either of us, not if we were together, and we both know you're twice as smart as I am, and I don't think I could do it without you, and I know it's asking a lot, to run away from your friends and your family for who knows how long, but I can't really thinking of any reasons why you would want to, just why- why I need you to," he finished hopelessly.

Hermione looked at him. "Okay," she said quietly.

He looked up. "Did you-?"

"Okay, I'll go with you. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, right?"

He gave a rare, genuine laugh of delight, and as she looked up and reached for his hand, she realized that he was reaching for her hand too.

And that his lips were reaching for hers, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi there! Thanks for reading, and espeically thanks to those who follow and favorite and review my story at only three chapters (wow!). Also, much thanks to the reviewer who informed me of my accidental posting of duplicate chapters! (A huge blunder on my part. I mixed up my files! Haha, isn't that embarassing?) Hope you enjoy!**

**-MissSunMessage**

* * *

_Confidence boosted by a mile, he began to talk faster and faster. "You could finish your classes by then, I know you could, and have taken all your final exams, and you know more about what to do than I ever could, and then it wouldn't be half as terrifying for either of us, not if we were together, and we both know you're twice as smart as I am, and I don't think I could do it without you, and I know it's asking a lot, to run away from your friends and your family for who knows how long, but I can't really thinking of any reasons why you would want to, just why- why I need you to," he finished hopelessly. Hermione looked at him. "Okay," she said quietly._

_He looked up. "Did you-?"_

_"Okay, I'll go with you. A trouble shared is a trouble halved, right?"_

_He gave a rare, genuine laugh of delight, and as she looked up and reached for his hand, she realized that he was reaching for her hand too._

_And that his lips were reaching for hers, too._

* * *

That night at dinner, Harry noticed that Hermione wore an expression of wild happiness, but without providing the reason why. Usually, she was bursting to tell them the cause of her satisfaction, but tonight she kept silent.

"Hermione," Harry began, and she glanced up, startled and looking strangely guilty, but before he could ask what was the matter, Dumbledore ushered the tables into quiet.

"Something very dangerous and frightening has happened," he said seriously.

Ron looked at Hermione and Harry in alarm, but Hermione had turned her head to look at one of the other tables, and Harry was staring at Dumbledore questioningly.

"One of the security enchantments protecting the school had been breached."

Every single head flipped to gaze in wonder at the other students around it, but Dumbledore continued speaking. "It was broken this afternoon at 1:17 pm. I assure you all, the staff of this school doesn't take this kind of thing lightly. I hate to say it, but we believe it was someone from inside the school." Now there was a pause, and then everyone started speaking all at once in a rush of curious words.

"So a _student-?_"  
"Or a staff member..."  
"Merlin, but _who?_"  
"What's the point of a _student_ breaching security?"  
"That's really scary!"  
"How do they _check?_"  
"Do you think...?"  
"How do they know it was someone from inside?"  
"Who was it?"  
"Will they check all of us?"  
"I'll bet it was Snape!"  
"But why would a student-?"  
"It's not any of the younger grades for sure."  
"Shut up, not _her!_ She'd never..."  
"Will they use Veritaserum on us?"  
"I think we-"  
"QUIET!" Dumbledore roared. "This is a very serious matter, and while only a layer of the enchantments protecting the school was broken into, this becomes a safety issue for all of the students and staff here. The enchantment was on the door to the West Wing, which, as you all know, is inside the school and not one of the outer entrances, so only a person from inside could have done it. We will not be checking wands, as this takes too long and isn't always a flawless process, or use Veritaserum, as that would be immoral, and we do not use Truth Potions on children."

Here, Professor Snape looked sorely sorry.

"We do, however, ask you to make this easier on all of us and make sure you know where all your friends were, ask around, and please tell us absolutely anything you know. The more students we can eliminate from our list, the less we will disrupt you from your daily schedules."

Everyone stared at each other suspiciously, their previously light-hearted, curious glances now turning dark.

"Thank you. That is all."

The nervous chatter resumed, nearly everyone asking, "_Where were you at 1:17 this afternoon!?_"

Harry gazed at them, troubled by this sudden news. "We all know where we were... Ron was with me outside, and Hermione, you were at the library..."

Hermione nodded quickly, swallowing hard.

Draco had said he hadn't given Pansy and Blaise an excuse. He'd be on the list of suspects for sure.

Her mouth went dry when Harry said, "I'll bet it was Malfoy. Question is, why?"

Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione managed to say, "You don't have any proof it was him, Harry."

"I don't need it. I know."

"You can't just _know,_ Harry. That doesn't do anything," Hermione said irritably.

"No, come to think of it," Ron said, resuming his eating, "I did see Malfoy disappear from lunch at around twelve."

Hermione paled.

Harry nodded. "Come on, Hermione. You've got to admit it looks suspicious!"

"I don't have to admit anything," she answered hotly.

At that declaration, both boys looked straight at her. Her face was white, and she seemed to be struggling not to say something.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked worridly.

She swallowed before saying smoothly with just the right amount of annoyance, "It's just that I saw Malfoy at the library, Harry, so he _couldn't_ have done it."

Ron's eyes widened. "What? He's never there, he doesnt read! What was he doing?"

"Reading a book, Ronald," she sighed.

"Oh," they said disappointedly.

But despite how well her lie had worked -she'd even seen Lavender eavsdropping on their conversation, so she knew everyone would know where Malfoy had been at 1:17 by tomorrow- she couldn't shake her uneasy feeling. She'd never done anything deliberately harmful to the school or other students here at Hogwarts. Broken enchantments did pose a safety issue, but if it meant she was saving a person from either killing or being killed, did it even out?

She needed to talk to Draco.

She turned to find him, and located him at the end of his table, alone and surrounded by paranoid Slytherins, eager to turn someone in.

He looked up, sensing eyes on him, and found Hermione gesturing at the door. He nodded, and did his best to slip out unnoticed.

Unfortunately, Pansy noticed. "Where're you going, Draco?" she asked petulantly.

He began to walk away, then remembered that he really needed to kick that habit, as evidenced by his classmates' questions. "Um, library," he said the first thing he could think of.

"Is that where you were yesterday?" She asked it sulkily, but he detected a hint of the malice behind her question. She was dying to give his name to Dumbledore, he knew.

"_Yes_," he said sharply.

But she had already turned to lean on Blaise's arm and ask him who he thought it was, and did he want...

* * *

Draco left the Great Hall with all eyes on him, but satisfied. Pansy would tell everyone regretfully that it wasn't him, by tomorrow at the latest. He was safe-

He crashed into someone as he crossed the corridor. "Ow!" they both complained.

Then there was a soft laugh as she realized who it was. "What did you tell them?"

"Library," he answered, just as she said, "I said library, as per usual."

She giggled again, then grew serious. "Draco, Harry and Ron thought it was you..."

"So did Pansy," he said smirkingly.  
"Until I told them I saw you at the library."  
"Until I told her I was at the library."

She groaned in relief. "Thank God. I was so scared... But Draco, Dumbledore isn't stupid. He's going to realize its me eventually."  
"Not if we're careful," he interjected.

"We're bound to forget something eventually-"  
"We won't-"  
"What about Legilimency?"  
"Who'd use it on a student?"  
"Snape would. And you know he's good at it, too-"  
"So am I."  
"How?"  
Bitterly: "Bellatrix insisted on teaching me it."  
"What if you're not good enough-"  
"We'll worry about that when it happens."  
"But I feel guilty-"  
"So don't help me-"  
"What? I _have_ to, I love you-"  
"Ssh," he hissed, pulling her further into the shadows. "Someone might hear you."  
"There's no one here..."  
"Hermione, don't overanalyse everything," he said mockingly, losing patience.  
She glared at him, tears in her eyes. "Don't be so spiteful-"  
"You're one to talk-"  
"I'm just trying to help-"  
"Making me more afraid than I am is not helpful!" he snapped, and the silence was so thick you could have cut through it with a knife.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, as he said, "No, I shouldn't have said that. I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have in the past."  
"I'm just afraid, too," she confessed.

At those words, the anger and resentment between them washed away, and he took her into his arms. "Don't be. Everything'll be all right."  
They stood there like that in the empty classroom until it got too dark to see anymore.

* * *

Once again, Hermione walked down the familiar road to the Quidditch field.

Her mind was still full of firm disapproval from breakfast, when she'd caught Harry slip Ron some Felix Felicis. Quidditch was a competition, Slug-horn had _told_ him it was illegal!

Hermione shook her head, seething.

Now that dratted Potions book was making Harry and Rom break the law, as well! It was the Maurauder's Map all over again, but this book had not been defiled by Harry's dad, or, furthermore, Mr. Potter's friends- but by some cocky former student who called his or herself "Prince". Why wouldn't they listen to her?

Deep in her heart, Hermione even knew that part of the reason why she was so irritated with Harry was because he'd used his Lucky Potion on something so trivial as a Quidditch Match. Yes, it was a kind gesture, giving it to Ron, but still an illegal, dishonest gesture.

Besides, Ron was being so rude to her lately! She just didn't understand what she could have done to him that was so terrible.

Well, yes, she did, but not anything that he actually knew about.

Anger burning in her, she forced herself to pay attention to the game as she made her way up into the stands. _Of course, perfect weather, Slytherin players missing, Ron making every save-_

_Wait a minute. Slytherin players missing? Draco? _

Panic filled her. What if he was in trouble? What if they somehow traced him to having been in the West Wing entrance at 1:17 pm yesterday? What if Snape had used Legilimency on him and his Occulumency hadn't been enough?

Anxiously, Hermione waited out the entire game before she finally spotted Draco under one of the Slytherin stands, hidden in shadow and away from prying eyes. Her relief was immediate, but then she realized how ill he looked. He was positively white, and there were dark smudges under his eyes. Where had he been? Or perhaps he'd been there the entire game.

In that case, why was Harper playing instead of himself?

Something was very wrong. She didn't have long to figure out that shameful, disappointed, frightened look about him.

* * *

When Gryffindor easily won the game, they threw a party in the Common Room, and Hermione was drawn inside along with the celebrations.

Before long, Lavender sidled up to Ron. "Ron, that was amazing," she declared, and soon enough they became so tangled up in each other that they were basically one.

Something inside Hermione quivered. She didn't understand why she was so upset watching them snog, but she couldn't stand seeing them entwine any longer, and she turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the portrait behind her.

The Fat Lady called after her angrily, "There's no need to be violent!"

* * *

Hermione searched for an empty classroom and then sat down on a desk and brooded over what was making her so miserable. It was the stress of all the precautions she was taking to plan for their escape, she supposed, along with Harry acting so carelessly and being so harsh about Draco, and, of course, Ron snogging the first girl that was interested in him, and her guilt.

_They don't have any tact at all, do they?_ she thought, wiping away a stray tear. _Boys can be so insensitive sometimes._

Dropping her head, she drew her wand and began slowly practicing her Charms classwork. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Harry walk in, obviously having seen her leave looking so disheveled.

"Oh, hello," she murmured, hovering the birds at shoulder height.

She really didn't want to tell him the primary reason for her tears, so she let him think she was upset over Ron. Better than blurting out her plans and giving away both herself and Draco.

If she did, she would not only betray everything, but also become unable to stop herself from crying. Nobody ever understood how much stress she was put under on a daily basis to be perfect, to act and speak and learn and keep everything inside perfectly.

Ron burst in, looking confused and worried.

Hermione let their polite chatter last a while before surrendering to her fury and focusing all her hurt on Ron. Vaguely, she directed the birds at him before fleeing the classroom, too afraid to say or do anything else.

Somehow she got the feeling it would take something drastic to quell the fight between them this time.

* * *

It was done. Hermione was going to the Christmas Party with Cormac McLaggen.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the library, rereading _Hogwarts: A History_ for the twentieth time when Demelza Robins ran up to her.

She glanced up from her book. "Oh, hi, Demelza."

Demelza gulped. "Oh, Hermione. It's- it's Ron."

Hermione looked at her properly for the first time. Demelza's face was grave, and she kept twisting her hands together.

"What's Ron?" she asked tensely.

"He's in the hospital wing. He's, oh, he's been poisoned, Hermione," Demelza whispered. Hermione jumped up, her book crashing to the floor. "He's been what? How?" she cried, horrified.

"He-he drank something Professor Slug-horn gave him," Demelza gasped. "Harry saved him just in time." She knew Ron well, they played Quidditch together.

"Slug-horn? Why would he poison him?" Hermione demanded.

"I don't know the details..." Demelza said pleadingly. "Just please come to the hospital wing. He's in a really bad way."

Immediately, Hermione left her bag and everything she had with her right there and followed poor Demelza up to the hospital wing.

* * *

When they were let in along with Fred, Harry, George, and Ginny, they found Ron lying on a bed, asleep, his skin positively grey. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, tears stinging her eyes. Seeing him so ill chased away all the anger she'd felt at him before for being so unkind. "Oh, Ron," she whispered, and sank down into a chair beside him, her eyes never leaving his face.

Harry left the room quietly.

Just that morning, he'd been sitting in the Great Hall, making stupid jokes about Quidditch and flirting with Lavender. Now he looked broken and... small. _So small_. Really, what did who he kissed make such a difference to her? Yes, they'd planned to go to the Christmas Party together, but that had been as friends. She didn't love him, she loved him as a brother.

God, she'd been so unfair to him! She was doing much worse, actually- falling in love with his sworn enemy, endangering him and other students, helping a Death Eater, planning to drop out of school with that Death Eater, lying through her teeth, sneaking around behind his back... Would her list of sins never end?

Full of remorse, guilt, and fear, she barely even noticed Harry walk back in.

"HARRY! What happened? I know he drank something of Slug-horn's, but where'd he get it from? How did you save him? Oh, Merlin, will he be all right? I've been horrid to him..."

Harry sat down next to her."Slug-horn was going to give oak-matured mead to someone as a present, but offered it to Ron and me after he healed Ron of Romilda Vane's love potion. Ron drank it and started convulsing. I did the first thing I could think of and shoved a bezoar down his throat. Luckily, it was enough, and he'll be fine. And don't kill yourself over the fight you had. He's been a prat, you had every reason to be mad at him."

"Oh, Harry," she whispered despairingly. "Do you know who Slug-horn was going to give it to?" she asked timidly.

Harry nodded, sighing. "He told us he was going to give it to Dumbledore. I saw the look on his face, Hermione. He wasn't the one who'd poisoned it."

Hermione's blood ran cold.

"Dumbledore," she repeated numbly.

He nodded.

She couldn't feel anything. All she could understand was the betrayal. Why would he try another murder scheme if they were planning to run away? He certainly wasn't stupid.

So, what? Was he using her? Did he plan to kill her along with Dumbledore, and run away with the advantage of her plans and broken guarding enchantments? Did he lie to her about his love, too? She sat there, too cold and sad to do anything.

First she almost lost Ron, now she'd lost Draco as well.

* * *

Once night fell, Hermione sneaked out and made her way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Somehow, she knew he'd be there. Sure enough, she was right, and he knew why she'd come.

Draco held up his hands to stop her. "I know why you-"  
She drew her wand and pointed it straight at him. "Know why I what?"

"Why you're angry-"  
"Angry? I'm not angry," she said viciously. "I'm hurt. Didn't you say you never wanted to hurt me again?"  
"Hermione, please!-"  
"Do you not care about who you harm along the way to your success? First poor Katie, then Ron, and now me?"  
"I don't want-"  
"I cannot understand why you would try murder again when I've been helping you escape, I've been going out of my way to make sure you're okay, when I saved you from death once and I am saving you again!"  
"I wouldn't-" "  
"The only logical explanation I can think of is you'd kill Dumbledore and use my plan and my map to escape!"

"No, Hermione, I-"  
"What about me, though? Were you planning to kill me, too?"  
"I never-"  
"I've told you, you're not a killer."  
"I'm-"  
"No! Shut up! You _betrayed_ me!" she spat, and for the first time he spoke no words of protest. "You attempted to kill the headmaster, but failed that and nearly killed one of my best friends!"  
"I know."  
That made her pause for a moment.

"Did you actually love me?" she asked softly. "Or was that a lie, too?"  
"_Yes,_" he said immediately, glad to admit to something that put him in a positive light. "I did, and I never stopped. I still do."  
She hesitated, crying a bit, then lowered her wand and said, "Then explain."  
"I don't deny that it was me that indirectly poisoned the mead that hurt Weasley. But I didn't intend to hurt you."  
"Oh, come on. Killing Dumbledore when you had me fooled? That was bound to hurt my feelings just a _little_ bit," she said sarcastically.  
"But I didn't know you then."  
She opened her mouth, then went quiet. "What do you mean?"  
"I poisoned that bottle - well, I got Madame Rosmerta to- long before you rescued me from suicide, back when I told myself I could survive this, that I could complete my task and live through the year," he explained desperately, the honesty in his voice unavoidable.  
Hermione's breathing went shallow. "Really?"  
He nodded, secretly praying for her forgiveness, and she gasped once and sank down to the ground, her hands over her face. Only by the trembling of her shoulders could you tell she was silently sobbing.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered into her palms. "I've been having a rough time with everything."  
He shook his head. "Don't apologize. I feel like shit for what I've done to you."  
She glanced up. "To Ron and Katie and Dumbledore," Hermione corrected.  
"To Weasley and that girl and Dumbledore and you," he consented. "Hermione, you're the most important person in the world to me," he admitted.  
She looked up again. "That can't be true. What about your family? Or your friends?"  
"My family doesn't care for me, nor I for them," he said dispassionately. "And I have no friends."  
"That's sad," she mumbled into her hands.  
"Yes, well," he said indifferently. "I don't particularly care about those things."  
"What, about love or friendship? Draco, you don't mean that."  
"I do," he assured her.  
"No, don't," she whispered, and stood up and walked over to him and leaned her head against his chest.  
He kissed her forehead. "Go sleep. You look exhausted."  
She ignored this and asked, "Where were you at that Quidditch game where we won by so many points? Why were you under the stands?"  
"I'll tell you later," he answered with a sigh. "It's nothing too important."  
She looked at him with sad, earnest eyes, and kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, Draco."


	5. Chapter 5

** Hi, guys! Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading so far, especially thanks to **** B7loody. 550, kiddo, and BrightestWitchOfHerAge16 for reviewing! Hope you enjoy!**

**-MissSunMessage**

* * *

_"Yes, well," he said indifferently. "I don't particularly care about those things."_  
_"What, about love or friendship? Draco, you don't mean that."_  
_"I do," he assured her._  
_"No, don't," she whispered, and stood up and walked over to him and leaned her head against his chest._  
_He kissed her forehead. "Go sleep. You look exhausted."_  
_She ignored this and asked, "Where were you at that Quidditch game where we won by so many points? Why were you under the stands?"_  
_"I'll tell you later," he answered with a sigh. "It's nothing too important."_  
_She looked at him with sad, earnest eyes, and kissed his cheek._

_"Goodnight, Draco."_

* * *

The two continued to meet in secret in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom every two days or so for the next three weeks.

* * *

Harry rapidly became obsessed with the Marauder's map. When Hermione realized how avidly he searched for Malfoy's name on the map, she grew afraid of when he would catch their names together, and advised Draco to find a new place to go over plans.

"Why?" he asked curiously.

Hermione hesitated, reluctant to relay one her friend's most prized possessions. Determined to go around this this without hitting the nail on its head, she said, "Harry's got this... Way of telling where people are in the school. Sooner or later, he's bound to see us and ask questions. I just think that-"  
"How?" he asked quickly.  
"I really can't say..." she demurred.

He shot her this heavy look, and she weakened a little. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that to Harry-"  
"Yes, heaven forbid I should find out Potter's little secret," he said drily.

"Don't be so irritable..."  
"I wasn't," he hissed, though they both knew he was trying hard not to gnash his teeth together.  
"What's wrong, Draco?" she asked quietly, stepping closer to him, much too close for him to concentrate on arguing-  
"I just don't want us to keep secrets from each other," he mumbled defensively.  
Hermione's expression softened noticeably. "Oh, Draco..."  
Malfoy's courage failed him, and a rush of embarrassment overcame him. He was supposed to be superior, wasn't he, not fall in love with Muggle-born schoolgirls? Regardless of how beautiful or smart or good they were...  
His face stiffened.  
"Don't give me that look," he spat.

Hermione took a step back, surprised. "What look?"  
"Oh, you know the one. That look of... pity."  
Her face fell. "Is it wrong to feel sympathy?"  
"_Yes!_" he said furiously. "It's _wrong!_ It's annoying, as if I don't have enough things to be ashamed of!"

Hermione's voice hushed. "You're _ashamed_ that I feel sorry for you? It's normal for humans to have sympathy for one another. It's natural."  
He could hear the little hitch in her voice as she said _natural_, and his resolve to make her lift her gaze and see faltered. What was he doing? He was hurting her again.  
Inwardly, he groaned.  
"Hermione, please understand-"

"Most people who love each other wish the other the best, but you seem to find it... _Repulsive_."  
Her eyes filled with tears as he watched her speechlessly. "Repulsive, to have and share affection! You know, _most_ people don't find it disgusting to care for another person, but you do!"  
They were in the middle of another fight, he realized. Hadn't he promised himself he wouldn't do this again the last time she'd cried?  
"I _don't!_" he protested, stricken. "I love you, I've _told_ you that!"  
Tears welled up in her eyes. "Yes, Draco, but saying it isn't a relationship!" she cried. "It's nothing!"  
"Nothing?" he asked injuredly. "What we have is _nothing?_"  
But his hurt-filled words only fueled her frusturation.  
"Yes, we have the primary connection, and attraction, right. But that isn't enough!"  
"I thought-"  
"You need to actually care enough to try!"  
"Of course I care!"  
"Saying that my feeling sympathy for your situation shames you isn't trying!"  
"I am, it just makes me-"  
"Weak?" she asked quietly.  
Hermione took a deep breath. "Love," she said, "is supposed to make you strong."  
And then he understood just how hard he could take her breath away.  
"I'm sorry," he said desperately. "I am-"  
She ignored every word he said. "Love isn't supposed to be a sign of weakness! It's supposed to- to give you courage, and- and faith, not... Sh-shame you..."  
"No, you-"  
"_Don't_, Malfoy!" she cried.  
Nothing could have stunned him more than her use of his surname. It jabbed every feeling he had into a hole and demanded he only comprehend confusion, hurt, and jealousy.  
She hadn't called him Malfoy since the night they'd spent together on the roof of the West Wing.  
"Malfoy?" he repeated bluntly.  
That shut her up very quickly. "What?" she asked quietly.  
"I thought we'd stopped with that a while ago," he spoke it just as quietly.

"We- we did," she said looking immensely confused, but beneath her puzzled exterior he sensed a silent understanding and desperation. "It- it slipped out, Draco..."  
He shook his head, clearly in pain.

"Draco, I'm sorry-"  
"Forget it," he murmured, and turned away. "  
"No, don't do this!" she suddenly said shrilly. "Don't turn this on me, you said you were _ashamed_."  
He didn't say a word, just studied her eyes, which had gone round with regret and alarm.

He turned away.

"No!" she cried. "I'm s-sorry..."  
He sat on top of a sink and sighed.  
"I didn't mean to say that," she admitted heavily.  
He lifted his head and saw the look in her huge brown eyes and dropped all his thoughts of clear thinking and righteousness.  
_Fuck it,_ he thought, _she's worth more than my pride_.  
"I didn't mean to say it either," he said honestly.  
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and threw herself in his arms.  
"I've missed you," she whispered. Malfoy eyed her in puzzlement. "What're you talking about? I'm right here..."  
She nodded her head, and looked up into his stormy grey eyes. "I know. But I feel like you haven't properly been here since the day we broke down that enchantment. Look at us. We keep fighting."  
She dropped her head again.  
He was, in short, astonished.  
"But that was a month ago!" he said, flabbergasted.  
"I know," she murmured with a private sigh.  
"Then we need to get around to breaking some more of those enchantments, don't we?" he asked in good humor.  
Hermione's eyes skyrocketed up to meet his.  
Then she smiled gently. "Yes, we really should."  
He cleared his throat uncertainly. "Erm, you said something about moving places..."

"Moving?" Hermione repeated, staring at the water dripping from the drain.

"Yeah, and Potter's secret..."

"Oh," she gasped, "I meant to tell you, I need to show you something. An idea, for a hiding spot." She gripped his hand and dragged him into the hall, tugging him in the direction of a certain familiar corridor.

* * *

Malfoy forced himself to wait and be quiet a moment before asking, "What are you doing?"

He was slouching against a wall, watching Hermione Granger pace back and forth in front of a blank wall, muttering phrases under her breath.

Her eyes shot open. "Shush!"

He closed his mouth indignantly.

Malfoy waited a full two minutes before asking, "Much longer?"

"If you shut it, maybe not," Hermione replied testily.

He rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you are a bloody ray of sunshine."

She spun around, flinging her arms in the air. "Draco Malfoy, I promise, if you don't stop talking for a full three minutes, I will personally seek out Ginny and ask her to remind how to perform her Bat-Bogey hex."

He turned away, sighing, but without uttering a single word in his defence.

Hermione pulled her hair back into a plait, resumed her pacing, and forced herself to focus on the thought:

_I need a place to hide with Draco Malfoy. A place no one will find us. A place that will open in a time of hurry, and that we can live in for a long while if necessary. _

_ I need a place to hide with Draco Malfoy._ At last a door materialised, big and wooden.

Draco gaped at it, but Hermione gestured for him to follow her inside, so, tentatively, taking a deep, skeptical breath, he did.

* * *

Before completely having crossed the threshold and taking a good look around, he heard Hermione gasp in delight, and her head whipped around, her thick hair catching him in the face.

"Ow," he muttered, squeezing his throbbing eyes shut. "Will you please control your hair, or is it too difficult for you-"

"Draco, come see...!"

Bracing himself for something that made Hermione happy- probably something bizarre -he forced open his eyes and strode into the room. "Granger, I don't think-"

The full effect of the impossible, beautiful room made him halt and stare, open-mouthed...

At the cots, one green and the other blue, at the array of photographs on the walls- every happy moment he'd ever had, and by the look on her face, he suspected the same for Hermione -shaded lamps hanging at just the right angle to provide just the right glow, and there was, My God, there was a full-blown, gorgeous grand piano in the corner over there, with a violin on a stand, and sheet music, and he found himself drawn to it, found himself walking over to it and sitting at it and setting his hands down on the magnificent keys and... Playing... And before long, there was a quiet, but somehow demanding violin to join it, a sharp, light, carving sound, a soprano to his alto, and it was everything he'd been looking for.

* * *

"Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco-" A song, set to the tune of his own name, woke him and caused him to sit up abruptly from the piano, where he must have fallen asleep. He could feel the indentation of the E chord on his left cheek.

"Granger," he mumbled, grabbing her shoulder to steady him as he stood. He had the absolute worst hangover, but he wasn't drunk- but he was, drunk on music... Was it possible?

She stood, too, her eyes unsure. "Sorry to wake you, but free period's over, and so's Potions class."

He raised an eyebrow. "You skived off? That's not like you."

Hermione smiled mischievously. "Well, I figured one class wouldn't hurt, especially after those marks we achieved on our Bubble potion last week."

He shrugged, walking over to her side of the photographs.

"This one isn't moving!" he said in astonishment, and Hermione laughed.

"Yes, well, it seems to be a copy of one of my photographs from home."

Malfoy peered closer. Hermione was sitting on a porch, smiling, with a dark, tall boy's arms around her, smirking at the camera. "Is that...?"

"Yes, Viktor Krum," she confirmed.

Draco's protective, insecure side roared inside him. That one again? In the Muggle world, with _his_ Hermione, laughing at their own private jokes?

"When was this?" he asked, put off.

She smiled fondly at the picture, and he had a sudden, mad urge to take the photo and tear it into tiny pieces. "Oh, Viktor came to visit over the summer," she explained.

Didn't she understand how much it _mattered?_

As his eyes wandered over the pictures, he caught more, some still and some moving: Hermione on a swing, Krum shoving her off it to sit as she laughed and argued with him him, Hermione at some sort of Muggle festival, eating what looked like pink fluff on a stick and feeding him bits of it, a long set of four photographs attached together, each one depicting another happy Krum and Hermione, Hermione kissing Krum, Hermione at a dance with Krum. And other, less significant pictures: Hermione giggling, Hermione making faces, Hermione hugging, scolding, holding a baby in her arms, at a wedding, on a beach, on a water-slide, eating, yelling, pointing, crying, dancing, singing, waving, reading, painting, being silly, being annoying, being hyper-active, eyes wide and shocked, wrinkling her nose, sticking her tongue out at the camera, hair wild...

Draco glanced at his wall briefly, and realised that somewhere in his little nostalgic montage, Hermione had wandered over to gaze at it. He walked over and took her hand, which was unnaturally chilly.

The room grew silent as he stopped shuffling his feet and stood quietly.

"What is it?" he asked, seeing the look on her face.

"There's so... So few pictures," Hermione whispered, and Draco sighed, "Is that all? Don't worry about that."

"Don't worry about that? Look at your wall, and look at mine. For God's sake, most of these are Quid-ditch! A sport is the best moments of your life?"

"One day," he responded, "I'll take you flying."

"Oh, I've flown before-"

"Not like this," he interrupted, and she made a face.

"Sure. Whatever. If it makes you happy."

Hermione turned her face upwards and searched the top photos. "These are..."

She was at a loss for words.

Draco glanced at them, certain he knew what made her so weak.

They were all taken in the past few months they'd spent together. There were photos of them talking, kissing, fighting, holding hands. Hermione glaring at him, Hermione smiling at him, Hermione hugging him, Hermione repairing his nose, Hermione kissing his cheek, Hermione saving him...

"From the past few months, yeah."

His eyes focused on one that was a Wizard photograph, plainly the moment they had confessed their love for each other. Draco was staring at the floor, eyes faded, as Hermione reached forward and shook his shoulder, speaking softly and purposefully, and they both seemed to sit a little straighter, smile a little easier, walk a little lighter.

It suddenly grew hard for Malfoy to swallow.

"Well, we should get to class, before someone decide's I've killed you or something," he pointed out, but the effort was half-hearted.

The truth was, both of them were reluctant to leave this place, their own tiny glimpse of paradise.

* * *

The next potions class was taught, to the entire class's surprise and mixed feelings, by Professor Snape. Harry and Ron glared at him, keeping in mind what he'd done to both them and the Defense against the Dark Arts class.

"What is he doing here?" Harry demanded, as Ron hissed, "I'd actually gotten used to not seeing his slimy face around here!"

Ron, it seemed, had taken to skipping Defence classes as a protest towards his teacher.  
Personally, Hermione didn't see how ruining his chances of a respectable career was a protest against one of his teachers, but there you had it.

"Will you two calm down?" Hermione whispered back. "I am perfectly sure Professor Snape isn't going to try and poison you or anything. He's just teaching!"

"Don't underestimate him, Hermione," Harry muttered darkly. She rolled her eyes and did her best to pay attention.

"Today we will be practicing," Snape announced, "the Veritaserum Potion."

The faces in the group suddenly seemed a bit queasy. "Get into your assigned pairs."

Hermione glanced once at Ron, who had his thoughts written all over his incredulous facial expressions- _The guy's going to bloody use it on us!_ Harry shot them sort of _what can you do about it_ looks and strode over to his and Ron's table.

Hermione walked over to Draco, who grimaced at her and began measuring out the ingredients.

* * *

It took all of them roughly about two hours, but the sixth-year Slytherin's and Gryffindors managed to create passable Veritaserum potions. Snape walked up and down the aisle, glancing at a cauldron and occasionally sneering.

Hermione's palms started sweating as he neared their table. She glanced at Draco, who looked just as disconcerted as she did, and seemed to be thinking on the same track. What if Professor Snape suddenly decided to test their potion on one of them? Sooner or later, they'd give away their plans. Snape paused, first eying the unlikely alliance that they made up with an amused glint in his eyes. His gaze snapped back to their potion. It was smoky black, the exact shade the instructions described it should resemble in the end.

Professor Snape poured a few drops into a vial and raised an eyebrow. "Why so frightened, Miss Granger? Are you afraid of your own potion?"

"No, sir," Hermione answered shakily, having turned white.

"Afraid then, perhaps, of something you might say under Veritaserum?"

Hermione did we best to smile politely. "Of course not, Professor."

Snape smiled nastily and opened his mouth to say something, but Draco asked, "Just curious here, sir, but isn't using Truth Potions on students banned?"

Professor Snape turned slowly to stare at Malfoy before muttering, "Unfortunately," and walking away.

Before he reached Neville's cauldron, though, he glanced back at the two students, who were glaring at him with the exact same type of revulsion on their faces.

"Strange," Snape murmured to himself, before abusing Longbottom thoroughly about the state of his potion.


	6. Chapter 6

** Hey, all! Thanks SO much to EVERYONE who reviews and regularly reads "The Darkest Star"! I really can't explain how much it means to me!**

** To SupaCrazee: Snape was substituting for Slughorn, hence Ron's "what's he doing here" comment. I'm sorry if that wasn't clear enough! I'll try to make things more understandable from now on. :)**

**-MissSunMessage**

* * *

_"Afraid then, perhaps, of something you might say under Veritaserum?"_

_ Hermione did her best to smile politely. "Of course not, Professor." _

_ Snape smiled nastily and opened his mouth to say something, but Draco asked, "Just curious here, sir, but isn't using Truth Potions on students banned?" _

_ Professor Snape turned slowly to stare at Malfoy before muttering, "Unfortunately," and walking away. _

_ Before he reached Neville's cauldron, though, he glanced back at the two students, who were glaring at him with the exact same type of revulsion on their faces. _

_ "Strange," Snape murmured to himself, before abusing Longbottom thoroughly about the state of his potion._

* * *

Hermione was curled up in the Gryffindor Common Room, reading to her heart's content, when Ron sat down next to her. She glanced up at him, trying to conceal her irritation at this interruption. "Yes?"

"Dumbledore wants us to meet him to find out our new patrol schedules," he explained, and Hermione's annoyance faded at the edges.

_Well, at least it isn't his fault._

* * *

The two prefects recited the password, "Chocolate Frog", and climbed up the stairs to the Headmaster's office. They found that the other prefects were already there, waiting.

Hermione blushed a little as she took her place in between Pansy Parkinson and Ron. Dumbledore smiled and cleared his throat. "As you have all been told, there is a new prefect schedule. You will each receive a copy-"

Papers began floating off his desk and into the expectant hands of the Hogwarts prefects. Hermione caught hers neatly, and blinked when Ron's copy smacked him in the nose and dropped to the floor.

"_Ron,_" she whispered indignantly, as he protested, "It's not _my_ fault the ruddy paper..." Hermione sighed as he crouched down to pick it up and the rest of the office, including the paintings on the walls, were left to stare.

Dumbledore chuckled. "As I was saying, there are new pairs that I think will work better than the old ones. You may look over them now."

Hermione skimmed the sheet, her eyes landing on _Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger_. She leaned out and craned her neck to meet Malfoy's steady gaze. His silver eyes flashed at her, and for a moment fear overwhelmed the Gryffindor.

What did this new pair mean? Had Snape spoken to Dumbledore about the Potions lesson? What did he know? Oh my god, did everyone know? Did the whole school know what a terrible, deceitful person she was, that she was lying to all of them and siding with a Death Eater over her friends? Hermione gulped and imagined Draco drawing his wand on Dumbledore as he'd been instructed to do, speaking the words, _Avada Kedavra_'ing the Professor, and running, running away to Voldemort. The concept was painful at best, horrific at worst.

Then her eyes caught Ronald Weasley and Hannah Abbott, and relief washed over her. No, they couldn't know anything, this was just the product of Dumbledore's bizarre musings. After all, who in their right mind would team up Hannah and Ron? The two were basically polar opposites.

No, Hermione decided. Dumbledore probably was just humouring a few of his stranger ideas. _Let's see_, she thought, reading the names. _Ernie with Padma, not bad, Anthony and Pansy, the poor boy. _She didn't pay much attention to the fifth year prefects, who were whispering aggressively amongst themselves.

Hermione looked her own fellow sixth-years over and noted that the majority of them looked pretty upset.

Ernie and Padma were definitely the mellowest partnership: Ernie looked pleased, Padma indifferent (she had a feeling the calm, sweet girl would've accepted even Draco Malfoy as her patrol partner). Pansy and Anthony not so much: Pansy looked livid, while Anthony gave the distinct impression of a very disgruntled person. Hannah, on the other hand, seemed rather annoyed with her partner, Ron who was grimacing as though the prospect of working with Hannah was a very unpleasant one. Anyone could see that the Hufflepuff had an obvious crush on Ron, but the affection was apparently unreturned.

Hermione peered over at Draco, who was looking at her uneasily. She assumed a typical disgusted look and pretended to hate the fact that she was partnered with the boy she loved and would now be able to talk to him comfortably without the danger of being caught. Malfoy returned the favor and looked her up and down, sneering.

Pansy raised her hand impatiently. "Excuse me, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled questioningly.

Not waiting for acknowledgement, the Slytherin girl pressed on. "Sir, I don't think I'll be able to deal with my partner. Sir, I'd much rather be partnered with Draco here."

Shooting Hermione a subtle smirk, the Draco in question eagerly agreed, "Yes, anyone over that filthy little Mudblood... Sir," he added on second thought.

"Mr. Malfoy, you would do well not to speak so-"

But Draco was only starting his show. "I can't work with her!" he cried. "She's a _Mudblood_, for Merlin's sake!"

The rest of the students watched with interest. No one had ever argued with Dumbledore about their Prefect duties. They were all curious as to how the Headmaster would react.

One of the fifth years giggled nervously.

Dumbledore, it seemed, was not amused. "You will all stay with your assigned partners. Let us pray that you might not actually kill each other," he added dryly. "You are dismissed."

As everyone turned to leave, Professor Dumbledore added, "Miss Granger, please stay behind." Both Hermione and Ron turned and stared at the teacher with wide eyes. Ron finally shrugged, as in _See you, 'Mione_, and left downstairs.

"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore added, but his normally twinkling blue eyes weren't as warm as usual.

Slowly, Hermione sat.

"Miss Granger, know that the act isn't fooling us," Professor Dumbledore told the student quietly. "The staff knows that something very strange is happening between you and Mr. Malfoy. We don't know what, but somehow I have the funny notion that it has something to do with the breach in security we've experienced." Hermione listened, her stomach fluttering vigorously with each word spoken. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Later, Hermione would swear that the world stopped turning on its axis with those words. Everything slowed and swooped in on the offered question.

_Is there anything you'd like to tell me?_

She could feel her heart drumming in her chest, and was certain the Headmaster could hear it, as well. "No, sir," she breathed.

Hermione took a deep breath, sure he was going to trick it out of her, or bend the rule about Veritaserum, but Dumbledore simply sighed and indicated that she could go.

Hermione positively ran.

* * *

"No, I'm _telling_ you, his exact words were 'know that the act isn't fooling us'."

"This is all because of Snape," Malfoy muttered to himself.

Hermione's voice rose to borderline hysteria. "_No_, it's because people are starting to see that we don't hate each other anymore! Harry and Ron keep asking me where I'm disappearing to, and commenting on the fact that you are also always gone! They suspect something, and I think you know that. I think your friends-"

"Granger, calm down!"

Hermione let out a long breath.

"Who cares? We'll be out of here in no time!"

Hermione stared straight at him. "That's your plan? Ignore all the people that know about us and are slowly attempting to sabotage our plans until April?"

Malfoy's gaze was pure daggers. "Got anything better?" he asked coolly.

Hermione stared him down. "No. But let's do this: You ignore everyone for the next five months, and we'll see how it works out for you, okay?"

He was cornered and he knew it. "What do you propose?" he asked dully.

"First, we need to spend some time in the library," she told him perkily.

Draco's eyes grew fearful. "_W-what?_ Library?"

"C'mon!"

"I don't-"

Hermione gripped his hand and dragged him out the door.

* * *

"Our first step is to make sure everyone knows how much you _love_ to study here," Hermione explained as they neared the library, and automatically dropped hands.

"Right," Draco agreed doubtfully.

"So now you're going to go to the furthest shelf on the left, get our Potions book, and start your homework."

"Right," he repeated.

"I'll come in later, all right, and then you know what to do?"

"Right," Malfoy repeated for the second time.

"Okay, go."

Draco sauntered in, ignoring the pure surprise radiating off the students around him. One fifth year, that Creevy boy, even took a picture as he reached for the book.

He turned to Colin as he made for an empty table.

"Go away." Creevy gulped and hurried out of the library.

As he glanced at the other tables, his classmates immediately dropped their gazes and resumed their reading. Lavender Brown, however, was compelled to whisper loudly about his unexpected appearance in this sanctuary of books. He actually heard her say "Hermione Granger" and "Gryffindor".

Tempted to walk up to the girl and ask her to repeat it, Draco forced himself to find a seat and start reading. When Hermione flounced in five minutes later, he willed himself not to look up. Somehow, he got the feeling Lavender was watching to see when he would.

Flipping through a chapter on bezoars, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Hermione curl up in a chair with a book.

That was his cue.

Draco stood up lazily and swaggered over to her. "What are you reading, Granger?" He grabbed her book, holding it out of her reach, and read off the title: "The Count of Monte Cristo?"

Faking disgust, Hermione lunged for the book, but he stepped back casually. "No, I don't think so, Granger. I think I'll keep this one for myself."

Enraged, the Gryffindor launched herself upon him. "Give it, you prat!"

"Mudblood."

"Git."

"No-blood."

"Pure-blood!" Hermione spat furiously. "Give my my book, Malfoy!"

By now, the entire library was watching with interest. "I think I'll just-"

With a final roll of her eyes, Hermione cried, "_Expelliarmus!_" Assuming a bemused expression, Malfoy watched his wand shoot into her ready palm.

"_Accio_ book!" The Count of Monte Cristo flew into her other hand.

"Ferret," she snapped, and loudly slammed his wand onto the table before storming out of the library.

Draco watched her leave appreciatively.

* * *

He waited ten agonising minutes before bursting out of the library, laughing, staggering towards the Room of Requirement.

Hermione erupted into giggles, gasping out, "Oh... My god. Your... Face! And... No-blood! Oh my goodness..!" She collapsed onto a blue sofa, snickering.

Once she had stopped giggling, she calmed down. "So," she said professionally, "what's our next course of events?"

Draco snorted. "You're asking me? _You're_ the brilliant one-"

"Oh, don't say that. You're just as smart as me."

"I said _brilliant_, not _smart_, Granger. I'm bloody clever, I am, but brilliant not so much." Hermione giggled once again. "_Bloody clever?_ I swear, I think you just sit in front of a mirror and practice these lines..."

"Not bloody likely-"

"There's the 'bloody' again. _You swear like a bloody pirate, you bloody do_," she mimicked, throwing him sly looks.

He looked her up and down dangerously. "Hermione Granger, are you mocking me?"

"Guess I am," she grinned. "You going to bloody do something about it?"

"Oh, I bloody am," he agreed, and allowed her to pause a beat before pouncing.

"No!" she gasped breathlessly. "Draco Malfoy... You stop... Tickling me!"

He smiled evilly, and that gave her a chance to leap up and run away from him, squealing. "Granger!" he whined.

She grinned at him, watching as he began to run after her. At this point, there was a very long chase, and both teenagers realised how big the room actually was. It took Malfoy a full three minutes to circle around the room and catch Hermione.

"Say you're sorry," he said threateningly.

"Never," she giggled.

"Granger...!"

"Fine, fine, I'm bloody sorry!" she exclaimed, and he stopped tickling her.

"Ugh, you're a nightmare," Hermione groaned.

"Please, Granger. It's all part of the charm."

She giggled, pushing her hair back from her eyes. "Oh, is that what it is?" she joked.

"Cheerful little Gryffindor, aren't you?"

"Oh, you shut up, you pure-blood Slytherin," she laughed. "You know, sometimes I think-"

For the second time, Draco Malfoy wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her, hard. It was the oddest thing: he reminded her of...

Breathlessly, she murmured against his mouth, "Have you been drinking mint tea?"

"Yeah," he mumbled back.

Hermione laughed quietly.

"You remind me of Harry," she confessed shyly.

Malfoy tore his mouth away. "You've got to be shitting me."

Frowning, she replied quite sincerely, "I'm not. You really remind me of him."

"The only possible trait I could share with Potter is our rubbish families."

Hermione paused, picturing sweet, clever Lily Evans and brave, loving James Potter. "I think you're mixed up."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not his parents, his aunt and uncle!"

"How do you know about the Dursley's?"

Malfoy sighed good-naturedly. "Potter doesn't exactly keep them a secret, does he? Whines about them all the time."

Shocked and unwilling to admit he was right, Hermione protested, "They're terrible to him!" "Yes, some people have it hard, Granger. You have to get used to it."

Was it just her, or did she detect clear bitterness in his tone? Feeling it would be the right thing to do at the moment, Hermione reached out and pulled her arm around him.

"So remind me why Saint Potter is my new-found twin?"

She giggled into his shoulder. "Because you're both so identical."

"Identical? Do you need to get your eyes checked, Granger?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "No, I do not, thank you very much for asking, _Malfoy_."

This time it was a jab at his calling her Granger instead of poisonous words, so they both ignored it. "I _meant_, you both act so strong and immortal on the outside, but inside you there're sweet, caring boys waiting to show themselves."

"How flattering."

She ignored him.

"You pretend to hate the world, but around me you're brave and loving and normal people."

"Are you a psychologist now, then?" he inquired.

Again, she acted as if she hadn't heard him, counting it off on her fingers. "You come from less-than-perfect backgrounds, you hide your true self inside you, you put up walls with every word you speak, when you lose your temper you lash out at the people around you, and you both desperately are wishing to be someone else."

Draco was quiet for an impressive amount of time before saying, "I'm nothing like Potter, I'm not..."

Watching his face closely, she asked it: "Not what?"

"Not... Good."

Hermione's heart broke.

"Oh, Draco," she whispered fiercely. "Look at me. Right now."

His polished silver eyes met her black-coffee ones.

"You are good. You are incredible. You are the bravest, smartest, best friend I have."

She thought his face looked a bit crumpled, but in a second the expression vanished and he tilted his head. "_And_ I'm a better kisser than Krum."

Her dark eyes bulged. "K-Krum? You care about Krum? Why would you...?"

Softly, he kissed her and murmured, "Of course I care about Krum," before leaving the Room That Had Now Gained One Hidden Thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! Thank you so much to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and favorites! Enjoy :)**

* * *

_His polished silver eyes met her black-coffee ones._

_"You are good. You are incredible. You are the bravest, smartest, best friend I have."_

_She thought his face looked a bit crumpled, but in a second the expression vanished and he tilted his head. "_And_ I'm a better kisser than Krum."_

_Her dark eyes bulged. "K-Krum? You care about Krum? Why would you...?"_

_Softly, he kissed her and murmured, "Of course I care about Krum," before leaving the Room That Had Now Gained One Hidden Thing._

* * *

As Hermione moved through her typical routines, going through the motions of a girl with nothing to hide, she began to take note of the slowly appearing Christmas decorations.

Here were garlands of holly, and there was a strand of mistletoe, and stars caught in the chilly sun emanating from the windows, and prisms and bells and fake snow that clung to people's shoulders. Two people, in particular, seemed to attract an awful lot of fake snow. The stuff was forever tangled in Harry and the youngest Weasley's hair, as if it was drawn to it like a magnet.

Some other people it attracted were Padma Patil, Ernie McMillan, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson. That wasn't, of course, including the dozens of other students the snow lightly targeted.

The situation rose to such a level of irritation and curiosity that Ernie McMillan interrupted Professor Binns' lecture on Fairy Attacks on Monday and shot his hand up into the air.

Professor Binns' eyes widened, clearly in shock that someone was interested in Fairy Attacks, an short yet creepy history.

"Yes, Eric?" the professor asked eagerly.

"Sir, do you know why this damn snow is shooting itself at us?"

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Professor Binns, who had obviously expected Ernie to ask him about the lesson. He looked so crestfallen that she made a mental note to ask him an on-topic question in the near future.

Binns hesitated, his transparent face distressed, and Hermione was reminded of the time they'd asked him about the Chamber of Secrets.

"Well, that obviously has nothing to do with the lesson, Edward, so-"

Harry's hand rose like a torpedo. "_Please_, sir..."

Annoyedly, the ghost-teacher gestured a little rudely and muttered, "All right, if you really want to know." Every head snapped up, a few necks cracking from the sudden strain.

"The snow was created by Professor Dumbledore a few dozen years ago, and they have since decided to reinstate it, as I am under the impression that the school board found it _amusing_. The reason it follows certain people around is because it is drawn to people who are in so-called love."

The sudden announcement was met with startled glances at the students that still had snow in their hair. Ernie McMillan, Ron, Harry, Neville, and Susan Bones all began fidgeting with their quills.

Harry nudged Hermione. "You know, you've got a bunch of it in your hair, too."

Hermione looked him up and down sharply. "I do not!"

"Yes, you do. Look." Harry reached for her hair, and she jerked away reflexively, but he came up holding warm snow in his hands, anyway.

"I do not," she insisted.

"Don't you?" he teased. "Who do you love, Hermione?" he joked.

She sneered, a bad habit she'd picked up from Malfoy. "Shouldn't you be asking Ron that?"

Harry nearly swallowed the snow he was holding as he began to choke. "Well, Lavender, I suppose?" he managed.

Hermione'd also learned to smirk. "You might as well be blind," she told him.

"What's that supposed to-"

Hermione's hand was already waving high above Harry's head.

"Professor Binns?"

The poor teacher sighed. "The snow, I presume?"

"No, Professor," she said sweetly, "I was just wondering what you could tell me about the Fairy Attack of 1988?"

Instantly, the frail teacher's face brightened, and Hermione's classmates' groans could be heard echoing from across the room.

* * *

Walking briskly up the steps to Dumbledore's office, Hermione reminded herself of the persona she must feign when faced with being partnered with Draco.

Anger, but not too much anger. A lot of protesting and annoyance, maybe a grin-and-bear-it kind of attitude? A few rude words couldn't hurt-

A dark block flung itself towards her, and suddenly she was lying on the floor of the Headmaster's office, staring up at the ceiling, and _Oh my God_ her head was hurting...

Dimly, she could see a shock of snow above her, and Hermione mustered all the strength she had left and opened her eyes.

Immediately, a hand lunged behind her back and supported her into an upright position.

Oh, not snow, hair, Draco's hair. She saw that the youngest Malfoy heir was standing above her, arms crossed, mindlessly staring at the Sorting Hat. She sensed his agitation at slamming a door into her face, but he didn't show any concern.

Pleading with him silently, her eyes showed,_ I'm okay._

"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall cried sternly. "You could have seriously injured Miss Granger here!"

Malfoy laughed rudely. "Well, I didn't, did I? Seems your precious Mudblood is all safe and sound."

"Do _not_ use that sort of language in the Headmaster's office!" McGonagall exclaimed, and Hermione turned.

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?" she managed to ask.

"Out," McGonagall told her tersely.

"Out where-"

"Miss Granger, you need to go up to the Hospital Wing," the teacher ordered.

At this, Hermione glanced up at Draco, who, despite his cool, arrogant expression, was showing a tiny hint of fear.

"Hospital Wing?" he demanded, "What's wrong with her?"

McGonagall eyed him exasperatedly. "You astound me, Mr. Malfoy. Did you or did you not just hit Miss Granger with a door?"

Panic flashed across his face. "Well, she looks all right to me!" Malfoy snapped.

"She isn't! Look at her!"

"There isn't anything wrong with her!"

"Mr. Malfoy, if I didn't know better, I'd say you'd hit Miss Granger on purpose," McGonagall declared.

The bored look on Draco's face shadowed over for what seemed like a mere femtosecond- gone quicker than it'd been.

"Good thing you know better, then," he said very coldly.

"Mr. Malfoy, you would do well to _ease your tone_-"

With perfect timing, Hermione groaned and clutched at her head.

The squabbling teacher and student swivelled around to gaze at her bloodied fingers. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," McGonagall murmured.

Hermione caught a glimpse of Draco leaning over her, gazing at her.

She grimaced. "Ugh, my hair must look terrible," she whispered as soon as McGonagall turned.

Malfoy fought back a smile at the joke.

"Well, maybe Weasley's new girlfriend'll be able to fix that," he murmured conspiratorially.

Hermione managed a weak grin before falling into...

Into darkness...

* * *

She was aware of someone sitting next to her even before she'd opened her eyes. The person was breathing heavily, as if panting...? Her mouth was dry.

Squinting, Hermione peered up through her eyelashes. With a strange feeling of de ja vu, she could make out a shock of white blond hair.

"Draco," she mumbled, licking her lips. "What's going on? Where am I? Is this the- the hospital wing?"

He leapt up from a chair, hurrying over to her. "Granger! Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry. I couldn't help, you can imagine what that would've seemed like."

Everything was strung together like a very fast song of remorse.

Weakly, Hermione smiled up at him. "Kind of extreme, huh? I think you've convinced them, all right," she joked.

Draco turned white and choked out, "I never... Not on purpose..."

"Relax. I _know_." Looking away, she asked quietly, "What did you tell Madame Pomfrey?"

"Library book I needed to get back from you," he said quietly, holding her hand.

"What did Madam Pomfrey say was wrong with me?" Hermione inquired.

"Er... Cracked skull," Draco mumbled.

"What? _Cracked_ _skull?_ God, you've got quite some muscle there," she laughed.

"It isn't funny!" He realised he was shouting, and that Hermione's face had gone grave, but he didn't dare stop now. "You could have gotten your brain damaged! Or- or become a vegetable! Or gone into a coma, or _died_."

Hermione gripped his hand tightly. "No, I couldn't have, because then you would lose your only partner in crime," she smiled.

He managed a twisted look that just barely passed for a smile and muttered, "Your friends are coming."

"Please don't go," Hermione begged, "I don't want you to-"

"I'll see you _later_," he emphasised, and shoved past Harry on the way out.

* * *

Harry and Ron rushed to her side.

"What the hell was Malfoy doing here?" Ron asked harshly.

"Bringing up my bag from our meeting with Professor McGonagall," Hermione told him.

Harry sat down by the bed, asking, "What _happened?_"

"I, um, got hit by a door up in Dumbledore's office earlier, and pretty hard, I suppose."

Harry eyed her suspiciously. "Who hit you?"

Hermione straightened. "Well, er, Malfoy did-"

"I'm going to _kill_ him," Ron said harshly.

Her eyes widened. "Ronald, _don't you do anything to him._ It wasn't his fault- it was an _accident_."

"Bloody hell," Ron mumbled, staring at her.

"I'll be fine," she promised them. "It's _nothing_."

"It doesn't look like nothing to me."

"I said its nothing," Hermione insisted. "Now, what did Professor Flitwick give us for homework?"

* * *

_...as proven by the most complex attack, the Fairy Rebellion of 1627._

There.

She was finished.

Now, where was-

A high, irritated voice reached her ears. "_Yes_, Madam Pomfrey. That's right, to give Hermione her Potions homework. _Yes_... No, no, we have a _note_. See? Yes, we'll be _quiet_. No, we _won't_ make her faint. Yes, we promise."

Was that-?

"Thank you very much," came a sarcastic finish.

It couldn't-? Could it?

The first thing Hermione saw from her awkward position on the bed was a pair of boots, then a flash of blonde hair. Then a Slytherin uniform, then his angel's hair...

"Draco," Hermione whispered hoarsely. "Pansy. What...?"

The taller girl grinned. "Draco here was just dying to see you. I swear, he was almost in _tears._"

"She knows?" Hermione asked confusedly.

"Yeah," Maldoy muttered, as though it was something he felt deep remorse for.

Pansy giggled, "What did you _do_ to him? I've never seen him this way!"

Hermione turned suspicious eyes onto the pale Slytherin, who glared at Pansy.

"I was not in _tears_, Parkinson. I might have been a bit distraught, but not-"

"Distraught, my wand," Pansy snorted. "_Oh, Pansy, what if I really hurt Granger? What if she doesn't get out? What if I've killed her?_"

"It wasn't like that-!"

"Anyway," Pansy sighed loudly, "I've come to revive him."

Bemused, Hermione watched them argue.

"Revive? You make me sound like a prat..."

"You _are_ a prat."

The boy and girl she used to detest just a few months ago. _This is so weird,_ she thought.

In the end, Hermione figured she should interrupt them before they throttled one another. She cleared her throat. "So, Pansy, you're dating Ron?"

* * *

Pansy couldn't disguise the look of misery that flashed across her eyes. "No, Draco doesn't-"

Malfoy rounded on her, thundering, "You are dating _who?_"

"Oh, don't you bloody patronise me, Malfoy. Granger? Granger, for pity's sake!"

"Right here," Hermione informed her.

"Right. Sorry."

"Yes, Granger! Weasley is _very different._"

"Oh yes? How?"

Malfoy sputtered. "He just is! For one thing, he's not _intelligent_."

Unsure of how to take it- as a compliment towards herself, or an insult against her friend- Hermione pretended not to have heard.

"_Or remotely appealing in any way_."

Here she felt like she should defend him. "Ronald is very nice," she told them firmly.

Pansy glanced at her approvingly.

Draco's face was more of the dubious variety. "No he isn't, he's a-"

"You two are behaving like children!" Hermione snapped so abruptly that they jumped.

Pansy turned around, and the look on her face reminded Hermione just why she had been sorted into the House of Snakes. It didn't stop her, though.

"What did you come here for? To fight with each other and insult me and my friends? If that's the case, then leave."

Pansy's dark eyes narrowed. "And how are _you_ going to make _me_ in _that_ state?"

"Pans..." Draco interrupted, trying to keep Pansy from doing what Pansy did best- reducing girls that were prettier than her to tears.

However, it seemed to him that Hermione could hold her own.

"Yes, well, summoning Madam Pomfrey and telling her you made me faint doesn't require much strength, does it?" she pointed out coolly, looking Pansy straight in the eye.

Pansy hesitated, looking torn before smiling slightly.

"In that case... We'll shut up."

* * *

Two hours later, Hermione's hair had been reduced to its regular shape, and Pansy was too busy teaching her how to waterfall braid to pay much attention to Draco, who stood there looking very uncomfortable with the conversation topic.

"So," Pansy mused, finishing up her own waterfall hairstyle, "do you feel revived, Draco?"

"Very much so," he drawled. "Are you done now?"

"You know, for that little tidbit of rudeness, I think Pansy should teach me the Basket Braid," Hermione grinned.

His expression was of the utmost terror. "I don't think so, thanks," he stated. "Can I talk to Granger now, if you would be_ so_ kind as to leave us alone for two bloody minutes," Malfoy added.

Pansy scowled and flounced away. "_Fine_. I'll give you two a _room_."

"That's right, you go find Weasley," he called after her cheerfully.

* * *

"I am so sorry for her," Malfoy sighed, collapsing onto a nearby bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"For what? Fixing my hair?"

"Don't insult my intelligence and pretend you've forgotten her _in that state _comment. She's jealous, Granger."

"Jealous?" she squeaked. "Of me? Don't be ridiculous-"

He leaned closer, and her weak arguments faded away. "Its not ridiculous."

"Why would a girl like Pansy be jealous of me?"

There were a spare five inches between them.

"Because a girl like Pansy is remarkably insecure."

Four inches.

"Insecure? Don't joke," she mumbled questioningly.

Three inches.

"And because you would need to be an idiot not to notice how beautiful you are, even when you're head's cracked open. "

There was a tiny huff.

Draco glanced up at her.

Her eyes were soft and dark.

"Did- did you just call me beautiful?"

"I did."

He decided it was time to close the distance between them.

* * *

**Hey, guys. Just wanted to let you know that I'll be taking a while to update the next chapter, because of school, writer's block, and personal matters. I'll definitely update the Christmas chapter before Christmas, though :) Sorry!**

**Also, I wrote a little Dramione oneshot songfic off of "Boston" by Augustana, and I'd love it if you guys could check it out! Thank you for all your support! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello! I know it's the day after Christmas, even though I was supposed to update it earlier, but things were so hectic over the holiday season. Anyway, here it is. Thank you all so much for even simply reading this story, especially those who review, favorite, and follow! Love you all! Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

_"And because you would need to be an idiot not to notice how beautiful you are, even when you're head's cracked open. "_

_There was a tiny huff._

_Draco glanced up at her._

_Her eyes were soft and dark._

_"Did- did you just call me beautiful?"_

_"I did."_

_He decided it was time to close the distance between them._

* * *

The next few days passed quickly, with mild breaks in between schoolwork, reading, and sleeping. Madam Pomfrey had allowed her to leave after three days, mumbling about crazy teenagers who thought they were invincible. On the last day, Pansy came to visit her again, and they discussed Malfoy with much enthusiasm.

When Hermione finally got out, the first thing she did was go find Harry and Ron.

After about half an hour of searching, she realised with some sheepishness that they must be at dinner. She headed down to the Great Hall, humming to herself, when she crashed into Padma Patil. "Oh, hi, Hermione!" she cried, gathering her things up. "Are you out of the hospital wing, then?"

"Yep," Hermione beamed.

"All stitched up and everything? What happened anyway?" Padma inquired, walking down the stairs with her. "I heard a door hit you... How did that happen?"

"Oh, it was my fault," Hermione interjected quickly, not wanting to spread the wrong idea around. "Silly me, just... Ran into a door," she concluded cheerfully. "Have you seen Ron or Harry, by the way?"

"I think they're down at dinner. What was wrong, though? You were in the hospital wing for days."

Hermione grimaced. "Oh, cracked skull, that sort of thing," she shrugged, trying to make it sound as though it was nothing worse than a skinned knee.

"What? All that from a door?"

The witch glanced at the doors of the Great Hall.

"Well, nice talking to you, Padma!" she cried, hurrying into the Great Hall.

* * *

Hermione collapsed onto a bench, sighing with contentment as she dug into her steak-and-kidney pie. "This stuff is way better than Skelle-gro," she announced, chewing a little more vigorously than necessary.

Harry and Ron stared at her. "Er, good to see you, too?" Ron asked uncertainly.

"Oh, yes, that," she agreed, then laughed a bit maniacally. "Sorry. I'm just hungry."

"I see that," he muttered.

"So any exams coming up?"

"Just before-the-holidays ones. McGonagall's got us working like dogs," Ron declared petulantly.

"You haven't been ditching Defense Against The Dark Arts, have you, Ron?" Hermione asked sternly.

"No, not before exams," he muttered grudgingly. "If I fail it'll make it worse."

"Good," she told him firmly. "You need that class to become an Auror," she pointed out in between bites.

He glared at her so fiercely that she put down her fork and asked, "What?"

The two of them were vaguely aware of Harry beside them, who was trying not to laugh in earnest.

* * *

They were all in Charms class when they received the announcement about students who were staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. Professor Flit-wick's face twitched as he took the parchment from a Raven-claw fourth-year and read aloud, "Students wishing to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays must sign up this evening or be obligated to leave the grounds on December 19th."

Hermione counted down the days on her fingers. That left five days until winter break.

Harry was discussing it with a suddenly cheered Ron.

"I've got to go home for the holidays," Ron was saying, "Charlie's coming home, see, and Mum wants us all there. Are you staying, Hermione?"

"Yes," she replied gloomily, "Mum and Dad are visiting my grandmother in France. How about you, Harry?"

"The Dursley's want no part of me home," he confirmed, looking none too sorry about it. Hermione was suddenly reminded of what Draco had said about Harry and the Dursleys. She fought back the thought and forced on a smile and asked Harry if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade on Saturday.

* * *

That night Hermione smuggled the Marauder's map into her pocket and sought out Draco, who was apparently pacing the halls rather impatiently, stopping every few seconds in front of the Room of Requirement. Well, of course, he was far from thick- he knew she had some sort of device that told her where he was- as he called it, Potter's little secret. Malfoy was telling her to meet him in the Room of Requirement. Sure enough, a few minutes later, hurrying down a corridor in the invisibility cloak, Hermione glanced down and saw he was gone.

_The place where Draco Malfoy is_.

The door creaked open to reveal their secret apartment, all green and red in its splendour. She smiled at the walls, which abruptly seemed far too appropriate to her.

"What is it?" he asked from the piano, tapping the keys absent-mindedly.

"The hangings look like Christmas," she explained. "Red and green."

Draco rose and walked over to her. "I supposed, of course, you would love the ruddy holiday."

"It's not 'the ruddy holiday'!" Hermione squeaked in outrage. "It's _Christmas_."

"_Now_ I understand."

Frowning at him, she turned away and lifted her wand.

"What are you doing?"

"Hush." Slowly, tracing the movements of her wand, holly and evergreen appeared, and the scent of pine trees hovered in the air. Hermione breathed in deeply, whirling around to face him.

"Nice," he shrugged, and collapsed into a silver armchair.

She took the gold one beside him and wrinkled her nose. "Nice? Don't you like Christmas? Good tidings and all that?"

"No," he answered flatly, staring at the blazing fire.

Hermione shivered and pulled her knees to her chin. Instantly, his hard eyes softened considerably. "Here," he conjured up a blanket and laid it over her gently.

She smiled faintly, gazing into his dazzlingly silver irises. "Draco, come closer," she whispered, looking a little surprised at her boldness.

A smirk playing at his thin, cold mouth, he did as she asked.

She thought it was about time she stole that smirk from his lips. She leaned closer, made braver by his enthusiasm. "I love you," she breathed.

"Love you, too," he murmured, and sealed their words with a kiss that tasted like fireworks.

* * *

Hermione smiled at them fondly, leaning on Harry's shoulder. The three were sprawled out in front of the fireplace, in the Common Room, chattering and drinking hot chocolate.

"I'm going to go find... Lavender," Ron announced awkwardly as Hermione eyed him knowingly, and Harry nodded, muttering about meeting Ginny in the Three Broomsticks.

The boys stood slowly, brushing imaginary lint from their sweaters as they debated what they should say.

"Go," Hermione grinned at them. "I'll be okay, I'll be right here," she promised earnestly.

"Right. See you."

Rising, Hermione watched them round the corner and began to pack up her things. "Right here," she repeated cheerfully.

And ducked under the portrait-hole and left the Common Room.

* * *

Hermione blinked against his fingers. "Draco, I can't _see_ anything."

"I _know_. Just wait a bloody minute, will you?"

A pause.

She opened her mouth, but he beat her to it. "And don't start with that 'bloody' nonsense either."

Frowning, Hermione declared, "You sound like my mother."

She felt his hand stiffen, and sensed his agitation. "I don't."

"Yes, you do, minus the cursing part."

"How flattering. Shut up now."

Holding her hand, he led her a few more feet. Peering through the cracks between his fingers, she detected moonlit grass. "Draco, how much longer?"

He made no reply, and she sensed he was doing something with his other hand, maybe magic? She thought she heard a low "_accio_".

Then he pulled her onto something hard and smooth, ever so gently, and she felt a tug as the surface swooped up.

Hermione was getting that awful feeling in her stomach every time she...

"Look now."

Like she'd suspected, she was on a broom, suspended dozens of feet in the air and traveling faster with each sharp breath.

"DRACO!" she screamed, watching the stands rush by, making her dizzy. "DRACO, I'M GOING TO FALL AND DIE!"

He wrapped his arms around her waist and spoke soothingly in her ear. "You won't fall. You won't die. Relax, Granger."

"_Relax?_" she hissed, too terrified to yell. "_We are fifty feet off the ground on a fancy stick!_"

He chuckled. She was glad he could laugh at a time like this, because he wasn't going to be laughing when they fell off and died. "Yes, a _magic_ fancy stick."

"Draco, I'm scared," she whispered feebly, and he straightened.

Oh, did that appeal to his manliness?

"Don't be. I've got you. Just pick something to focus on so you can calm down."

"Like what?" she snapped, clutching the broom in a death-like grip.

"Like your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

Cringing, she did as suggested. _In. Out. In. Out. Hermione Granger, you stop hyperventilating and breathe. In, out, in. Out._

"Okay, now what?" she asked relievedly, actually enjoying the cold wind in her face and the rush of adrenaline as they curved downwards.

"Now stop being afraid of the fancy stick."

"The _magic_ fancy stick," she corrected breathlessly.

From the corner of her eye she caught him smirking. "Right, don't be afraid of the magic fancy stick."

"How can I not?" she cried incredulously, twisting to face him. "I'm on a stick that controls if I crash into things or not!"

Now he was glaring at her. "Wrong. _You_ control if you crash into things or not. Think. Tell yourself what you want to do, which way you want to go... And _stop_ looking at me, you'll kill us like that."

Nervously she inquired, "And then?"

"And then the rest will follow."

"Okay," she murmured, "here goes everything."

He scoffed, and the world spun on its axis.

_I love him so much_, she thought. _This is for him_.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione cut left.

* * *

They balanced in the night sky, translating constellations to each other.

"See, it looks just like a turtle wearing a crown."

Hermione tapped her broom with his, glowering. "Absolutely not, moron. That _royal turtle_ is a very famous constellation!"

"You're mad."

"That's all right," she sighed, leaning back and gazing at the tiny silvery lights. "After all, so are you."

This proved a little too insulting for the Big Bad, for he yanked his broom up in anticipation. "Race you, Gryffindor," he called, flying away.

Shaking her head, she shouted, "Just like a kid," and raced after him.

* * *

Hermione bounced on the balls of her feet as she entered the Common Room, humming to herself. Not paying much attention to her surroundings, she was unpleasantly surprised by Harry and Ron, who stood blocking the door to the girls' dormitory.

"Where were-" Harry began, only to be interrupted by a "Sorry, but could you let me through?" from a fourth-year.

"Oh. Right, sorry."

The boys shifted to block the wall.

_Not nearly as intimidating_, Hermione thought to herself.

On second thought, the three stepped into a less conspicuous room and shut the door.

"Where were you, Hermione?" Harry asked soberly.

"Outside," and it wasn't a lie, not really.

"Why outside?"

"I wanted to get some fresh air," she retorted defensively.

"21 degrees and snowing is not _fresh air_."

"I had a cloak."

Harry ushered them inside a broom closet as Ron gaped at her. "Hermione, where the hell have you been?"

She frowned. "We just went over this. Outside-"

"No! I mean where the hell have you been _all year?_ You disappear every few days-"

"I do not-"

"Off the map-"

"You've been _spying_ on me?" she cried.

The two swallowed and glanced at each other. "No," they lied horribly.

"_Yes _you have! Don't lie to me!"

"Don't change the subject! Where do you go?"

"_The library!_"

Harry cleared his throat. "No, you don't, Hermione."

"_Just_ because I don't show up on the map doesn't _mean_ anything. There's lots of students in the-"

"Seamus never sees you there," Harry interjected quietly.

Hermione's eyes darkened. "You _have_ been spying on me! You two have some _nerve_-"

"Answer the question. _Where do you go?_" Ron repeated aggressively.

"Look, _I_ don't _know_ why I don't show up on-"

"_Yes_, you do. There's a loophole in the map, and _you_ know it," Ron told her, his ears reddening.

"I don't answer to _you_, Ron. It's none of _your_ business what I do in my free time."

"Transfiguration, Herbology, and Divination classes are not _free time_. Whatever this is, it's bad. It's changing who you are, Hermione. We say this because we care about-"

"Me?" she asked hotly. "If you did you'd _believe_ me!"

"If _you_ did, you wouldn't lie to your best friends!"

"Best friends don't bloody _spy_ on each other!"

"See?" Ron nearly shouted. "You'd never have said a word like _bloody_ before this year! It's-"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, so I'm maturing? Well, I'm sorry it's a _problem_ for you, Ronald," she growled.

Harry stepped between the two, fearing what the expressions on their faces implied.

"Listen, Hermione, I didn't want it to come to this, but..."

"_But what?_"

Harry's bright eyes were unusually clouded.

"We know you and Malfoy have been meeting with each other."

* * *

Ron and Harry looked at her closely, looking for clues.

And oh, there were clues. Nothing but clues.

Hermione's mouth opened slightly, then shut. She licked her lips. Her eyes darted up, then down. Then up for a longer while, and then down again. She swallowed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ron groaned, and Harry shook his head. "Yes, you do, Hermione. Admit it already, please!"

"But I don't even believe what you're implying!" she snapped. "You mean me... and Malfoy?"

Harry nodded with a sigh.

Ron glared at her.

Acting insulted, Hermione cried, "I don't believe you! Why would I do anything with him?"

Harry folder his arms and looked straight at her. "Hermione, please don't lie to us. We're you're best friends. We care about you."

Ron nodded vigorously, and she would have laughed if she wasn't so cold.

"Tell us and we can help you with whatever this is. Is he threatening you, is that it?" Harry continued.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up beneath her hair. "What? No- no! He's not threatening me!" she told them, stamping her foot. "Will you two listen? I don't_ talk_ to Malfoy, much less _plot _anything with him! So shut up and tell me who told you it."

Ron eyed her. "_Really?_" he asked condescendingly.

"Of course," she replied annoyedly.

_I should try acting if this plot thing never works out, I'm getting so good at it_, Hermione thought shrewdly.

Ron exchanged a look with Harry, who shrugged and declared, "No one _told_ us, it was laid out for us right there."

Her already dangerously narrow eyes narrowed even further. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you always leave when he does. It means you always look over at him all the time and talk to him a little too much in Potions and yell at him a little too reluctantly."

"Your heart isn't in the comments you make about Slytherins," Ron agreed.

"You both leave the map at nearly the same times."

"You take a little too much satisfaction out of your being partnered up with him for patrol duty."

"You always defend his poor little ego."

"Something's changed," Harry concluded.

Hermione laughed. "Look, _I_ don't know what you're talking about. _You_ don't, either."

"Hermione Granger, the esoteric," Ron remarked nastily.

Hermione gazed at him, trying to understand.

"Oh, did you think other people couldn't know big words, too?" Ron added when he saw the look on her face.

Hermione looked away in shame, shocked and embarrassed with herself. She didn't have the courage to tell Ron that her expression was due to his cruel words rather than his "big" ones.

Exhausted by their efforts, the two turned away.

"Good night, Hermione," Harry ground out.

They walked away.

Quickly, she spun around and called, "Don't spy on me anymore!"

She waited, but got no reply.

"Happy Christmas," she whispered feebly.

From the corner, Seamus Finnigan raised his cup of fire whiskey and roared, "HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

The entire Common Room minus Hermione cried it back.

* * *

Hermione was wretchedly unhappy. The situation was laughably similar to the fight she'd had with Harry and Ron in third year.

Someone had overheard some of their conversation, and thus everywhere she went- classes, meals, the grounds -damnit, even the library- she was... _ogled_. Ogled for creating a dazzlingly ridiculous, unexpectedly scandalous, gossip-worthy fight that would go down in Hogwarts history.

It involved a former good girl betraying her only friends, going around behind their backs with a strange boy, and then denying the whole thing when the proof was laid out. Well, that was the frequently used version. Hermione thought she was a bit underrated in that one. There were, of course, numerous other misinterpreted versions. Some of these portrayed Hermione as the victim, some as a horrid brat that broke Ron's and Harry's heart purely to go around with a mysterious, yet surely, appealing stranger. In some, Harry slapped her, in others he started crying, and still in others Ron fainted from shock and despair.

Hermione's personal favourite depicted a scene in which Ron threw her off a balcony after finding out she'd slept with said stranger, only to be saved by saintly Harry, who with the Quidditch skills of a superhero accioed his broom and saved her before she could be killed. Even the amusingly physical improbability of this ending failed to cheer her up.

Her only blessing was that whoever had overheard their argument had failed to catch the name of the assailant. Thus she was able to meet with Draco and complain... Sort of.

* * *

"I don't see the issue."

She gaped at him. "The issue? Draco, everyone thinks I'm some sort of sycophant! Furthermore, Harry and Ron are no longer making eye contact with me, much less _speaking_ to me."

"So?" he asked calmly, looking at her physical signs of distress. Her already crazy hair was wilder than ever before, her dark eyes were eerily unblinking, and she kept biting her lip. Before she responded, he walked over and kissed her, forcing her teeth to fall from her mouth.

"Don't do that," he told her, "you'll draw blood and leave scars."

Hermione sighed. "Please don't, Draco. Now isn't the time."

* * *

Hermione entered the greenhouse shamefully late. "Sorry, Professor," she apologised breathily, "I overslept."

Sprout nodded curtly, knowing that Hermione Granger was never late except for that exact reason.

"Please take a seat, Miss Granger."

Walking over to Hannah Abbott, since Harry and Ronald were on silent terms with herself at the moment, Hermione began to take note of the looks that were cast upon her as she passed. Looks of not quite hatred- but if there was something just above it then this was it. Perhaps indignation. Or disappointment.

Hermione couldn't help but find it rather amusing that everyone believed some scandalous rumour being spread about her -whether it involved attempted suicide, a punch, a screaming match, or a duel- had she not been friends with these people for years? Was that gone now?

She supposed that it was human interest to trust in the extreme, simply out of fascination or boredom.

* * *

Hermione was distractedly eating lunch in the Great Hall- albeit eating it alone, and being distracted by her thoughts on the conversation she'd had with Draco last period. After Potions, they'd had a flurry of short-spoken answers and pleas in an empty classroom, where he'd explained to her that his father and the Death Eaters were constantly demanding of his progress. His solution to this was risky, but what could they do?

Hermione chewed and analyzed what Draco had suggested to her that he try. As soon as they could, perhaps-

Harry slid into the seat next to her, looking at her uneasily.

Hermione raised her eyes hesitantly, blinking at him. "Yes?"

"Hermione, I'd like to discuss what happened between us a week or two ago."

Without missing a beat, she observed, "I see Ronald wouldn't."

Harry winced and shook his head no. "He'll come around."

"I'm sure he will," she remarked coolly, calmly watching him until he continued.

"I won't apologise for what I said, but I would like to call a truce. If you want to do things with... Him... I suppose it isn't any of my business to pry."

Hermione smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry. I just- could you tell Ron I stopped 'doing things with him', please?"

Harry paused before nodding reluctantly. "If that's what you want."

"That's what I want," Hermione told him firmly. She hesitated, exhaling. "And Harry, please don't say anything to anyone else... Everyone already..."

"Don't worry, I won't."

* * *

**Sorry to those who are waiting for updates (I doubt it's too many people!- but still) I'm sorry for the slow chapters, I have a lot going on and it will probably take me a while to write nearly all of the chapters. I think I can guarantee about once a month updates, though. The next Chapter (Chapter 9) should be up in a while. Thanks!**


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